The Academy
by LostinNY
Summary: Picks up after the Arusian Education. Lotor centric - T mostly for language.
1. Chapter 1

The usual disclaimer – all of these characters (except the ones I threw in) are owned by WEP. Not my best effort, but trying to get the big story moving along. We have been battling a pox on my apartment that has made this place seem like a tb ward – everything from bronchititis to croup – so be kind when you flame me. Thanks for all the feedback. It has encouraged me to continue with the story.

Prologue

He woke up with the momentary disorientation of someone who was sleeping in an unfamiliar place. The events of the previous night were quickly becoming a distant, and not so clear, memory. There was drinks, and yes, drugs. The older men were encouraging him to partake in the women, something he now regretted. His hand came down on a warm body that groaned next to him which only served to remind him of his reckless behavior. He was embarrassed that he did not remember her name since it was something one ought to do considering it was a milestone in his young life. He turned around and remembered there was another girl in the bed. He groaned knowing he was not quite sure who he had been with first which only seemed to exasperate things. He dragged himself off to the bathroom and made his way into the shower, hoping to scrub himself clean. He was wracked with guilt. The night was beyond his wildest of dreams of what it would be like to be with a woman, let alone two. The King's pleasure slaves were both beautiful and talented. His thoughts went to Sharra. It should have been her. She had offered but he somehow thought it was inappropriate. He had always been a liar, that much was true, but he was not a hypocrite. Last night, he got to add that trait to his already tortured psyche.

He went back into the room and looked at the two slaves that were still in the bed. Their sweet smiles and honeyed voices beckoned him to rejoin them. Every instinct told him that he should return to the promised carnal bliss that was laid out like a banquet. When he refused they taunted him, jesting about his obvious innocence and inexperience, confusing his feelings that much more. Their playful jests were both arousing and angering him to no end. He quickly tired of their benign harrassment. His thoughts moving towards acts that were far removed from what he partook in last night. A slightly cruel smile crossed his lips as his hands came around the throat of one of them.

"Silence, woman." He murmured as he grazed his teeth along her neck. She was not in heat. There was no reason to do it, but he bit hard into her making her scream. The other one, fearful and terrified, added her screams to the mix. He did not touch her. His actions had accomplished their purpose.

"Would you like to reconsider your offer?" He cruelly added. The girl started to cry and he let her go. The other girl backed away with terror on her face. He had absolutely frightened both of them, something that pleased him though he did not know why. They had, after all, asked for it. He reminded himself to thank King Bhorn this morning for the loan of their services. It had been both a generous and satisfactory gift. He had never quite thought of women that way before, as simple receptacles for one's lust, and it had been an eye opening event.

Still, there was Sharra to consider. He wondered if she would be hurt about what had just occured. Best, he thought, not to mention it at all. It was already a moot point. They would soon be separated as she would not be allowed to join the Supremacy's Advance Guard. It was too dangerous for a woman to go into season aboard a ship full of men. Sharra would most likely go home and serve one of the planetary defense regiments in the Second Kingdom. He sighed. He knew his hesitancy was not for the moral reasons he claimed. In fact, Sharra had rightly mocked him for his insistence of some sort of formal arrangement before sex. His behavior the previous night just made her words sting that much more. He just knew that deep down she truly desired him and she meant too much to him to lead her on. Now, at least, they could remain friends.

Unfortunately, the night had left him with a slightly bitter taste. He most certainly did not see himself with a harem. Last night was a blur of too many body parts, making it hard to even remember what he did to who or who did what to him. He was not complaining. It had been as pleasureable as it was exhausting. In the end, the women were annoying, but useful tools to relieve him of his pent up desire for another pretty little pilot that had stolen his heart. He could have described last night's adventure with a thousand words, but intimate was one that did not come to mind.

He found a chair to put on his boots. For a moment, he sat and remembered the roar of the crowd that had, only yesterday, filled the King's Arena. Executing the condemned was a part of his graduation requirements. All of his classmates had eagerly participated. The executions in themselves were not much of a challenge. Most of his peers had the prisoner brought to them bound, and some had even demanded that their victim's eyes be blindfolded so as not to look into them. He shook his head in dismay. There was no honor in this.

Finally, it was his turn. Five men were brought out. In truth, he was glad that there was not a woman in the lot. Not that he had a particular aversion to killing a woman. After all, if she was guilty of violating the Law then the punishment was justified. It was that there was no challenge in taking a female's life. One by one, he untied the prisoners with a quick slice of his sword and then threw the condemned his other one. The crowd roared with delight as Lotor's theatrics increased with each kill. There was no real competition. With each one, he gingerly pried the sword from the dead hand or retrieved it from the ground. He would carefully wipe it clean and think that his victims should be honored that they died with a Renar in their hands, a death not befitting a convict but a warmaster. It had been a good day.

The cadet was changing in the dressing room along with his fellow students when a Royal Guard of Neraku approached him. The other students watched in awe as he was invited to the Royal Box. Today was a special day as King Bhorn was in attendance along with an imperial delegation. Most of the warmasters graduating from the Neraku Academy would serve him so it was only fitting that he watch them fulfill the last part of their formal education before he would unleash them unto his realm. The cadet, the equivalent of an exchange student, was not going to remain among them so it was with gasps and sighs of resentment when he was invited to the Royal Box, an honor rarely bestowed upon the soon to be officers.

The cadet quickly looked around the box. He was not surprised to find Warmaster Charak there, since he had a hand in training all the cadets who were on the field today. The Commandant sat proudly next to him and actually smiled as the young man entered. The cadet glimpsed briefly at Prince Skath in the back, sure he had been invited due to his rank. He finally saw King Bhorn and immediately fell into a posture of submission. He felt a gloved hand raise his chin and peer into his eyes with something akin to recognition. He was surprised not to find not King Bhorn in front of him, but the Emperor Zeppo.

"Cadet Carris" The Emperor said with a pause, sporting a bemused look upon his face. "An amusing touch, I might add. I see you have inherited your father's eyes and your mother's beauty." The tall, long haired Drule chuckled as if he was remembering a private joke. "What you say Bhorn? He comes back with us tonight to celebrate his achievement today."

"If it pleases my Emperor." King Bhorn gave his Emperor an ingratiating smile. Lotor was amused by the royals' interaction. It was a well known fact that Bhorn and his father were at odds on how the Supremacy should deal with the human-centric Galactic Alliance. His father had felt that they there should be a unified atack by all the Drules to eliminate the threat while Bhorn preferred to play it safe until the fight for resources came to a head. So far, his father had capitulated to Bhorn's demands but there had been a noticeable tension between the old friends of late. During the past several months, his father had taken a not so subtle stand in Council. He had voted against Bhorn in every minor vote, taking King Dharlock and the very young Queen Merla with him. It was not even to threaten his standing, but a shot had been fired across the bow.

"It does." The Emperor added with a smile as he turned his attention back to the youth who was dazzled by the attention. "Your father talked to me last month. He has asked me to attach you to the Elite Advance Force. It is so rare that an imperial crown prince does such service to his Emperor. I am placing you under one of my more promising officers, Lt. Commander Hazar." The Emperor shot a look of displeasure at Skath who looked to the ground.

"Your Highness, I am honored. I will serve you well." The cadet gave a deep bow. The party left the box. Bhorn begged to talk to the Emperor a moment, Skath moving in close enough to hear every word. Skath pulled the student aside as they were all exiting.

"Who the _hell_ are you?" The young prince practically sneered into the youth's face.

"I am Lotor, Crown Prince of the Ninth Kingdom. Perhaps, if you paid attention in political science you would have put two and two together. My picture was in at least four of the pad files, two more than yours." Lotor said with a smirk.

"Your supposed to be brain addled on Hestos. You lied to all of us. All these years, you lied." Skath replied with disbelief.

"That shocks you. Did your mentors fail to teach yhou that all Drules lie. Some of us are better at it than others, and none better than the House of Daibaza'al. Skath, my advice to you is to keep as far away from me as you can. The Second Kingdom does not have the manpower, the resources or the sheer cunning to take on my family." He followed the delegation at the door. The Emperor was waiting. A grand party with all his warmasters was waiting back at the Castle. It had been an excellent day.

Lotor gave one final look the girls that had now composed themselves. He saw the one girl's reddened eyes and her bleeding neck. Last night could have remained a sweet memory if they had behaved properly. The girls had told him that he was a pleasant change from their usual fare. They had taken his obvious youth as some sort of permission to tease and taunt him. Their behavior had been inappropriate to say the least, servants should never admonish thier master's guests. Even if their words were true it did not matter, he was a warmaster now and he would not tolerate insolence from a slave; no matter how beautiful.

What had surprised him was how pleasurable it was to teach discipline to that foolish woman. The feeling, though not rivaling the Arena, had been close. It had definitely been more thrilling than what had transpired in that bed, though the crumpled sheets begged to tell a different tale. He had always sought to just control his own life, but controlling the way others reacted to him was far more challenging. Maybe the idea of a harem was not so far fetched. He could imagine ten or twenty women serving him, day and night, giving into his every whim. And when they faltered, and they would, he would be there to lovingly correct their missteps. He laughed as he got out of the chair, knowing he had added another lust onto his quickly expanding list.


	2. Chapter 2

Swords

The ship slowed as it approached the large, triangular contraption that shimmered in a kaleidoscope of colors. Lotor had never seen lazon used in such large quantities before. He heard the voices of the gate controllers talking with the crewmen as they exchanged coordinates. The ship's science officer was describing the physics behind the gates – but Lotor was not listening. His senses were being overwhelmed by the energy source he saw throbbing before him. As they approached he felt the air charge with static electricity. For a moment, the cabin filled with the dancing lights, every color visible on the spectrum swirled around him. Then, there was a sudden flash. He felt a bit queasy as his body reoriented itself to time and place. The men had expected him to heave up his stomach contents but he felt no real discomfort. He looked out of the bridge windows and let out a toothy grin. As if by some miracle, Korrinoth was in the distant horizon. Its gray clouds hung heavily over its even darker oceans, the planetary power grid giving some symmetry to the dark chaos below. He was home.

Lotor was hustled off the transport and, as usual, he did not find his father to greet him. His first stop was to the fortresses' kitchens where he knew he would find cook and a platter of meat. It was later that evening he would meet with Borak, his father's most trusted advisor; and Timon, a security officer.

Zarkon found his security officer soon after he had left his son. He was curious to his son's reactions to the humans. He had only encountered them as slaves before this trip. It was his child's first prolonged contact with aliens in their own environment.

"My Liege, he speaks their tongue fluently. He seems to have a rudimentary grasp of their ethos." The intelligence officer gave his report as succinctly as possible.

"Does he sympathize with them?" Zarkon asked. His greatest fear being that the boy had become too human during his stay.

"He has affection for the princess he was housed with" Other than that, I do not think he was contaminated by them. He thinks the humans are weak and inferior to the Drules." Zarkon was pleased with the officer's response.

"Is he ready for the Academy?" The officer drew a deep breath. He was not sure what his king wanted to hear.

"Sir, he is so small." The officer replied.

"I did not ask about his size...I asked if he could handle it." The king's look of impatience was growing.

"The academics will not be a problem. Your son is quite remarkable in that area. But at his current height and weight I estimate that he has a 22.8% chance of survival. Give or take 2% points. If he waits another two years, his survival chances increase to 90%. The man hastily threw out the figures. "My Liege, the other cadets of the First Kingdom will not know he is yours. Perhaps he should train with our warriors's children."

"...And deny him the greatest warmasters. Timon, I am not worried about a bunch of pompous First Kingdom schoolboys." The king had a cruel smile on his face. The officer was not amused. Timon had just spent two days debriefing the boy and had developed a fondness for him. The boy had been quite charming and he wished him no harm.

"Sir, I would counsel against you sending him. The Academy of Neraku produces officers that are vile and treacherous. They spend every minute plotting against each other. They would hire an assassin to take out their own mother without a second thought if it would advance their own career. Think what they will do to your son?" It was rare that an officer would question his judgment. In truth, he should be throwing Timon in the dungeon for a few days in order to clear the man's head, but a part of him was pleased with the man's concern for his child. Most of the court detested the fact that he had appointed Lotor as Crown Prince, only his warmasters had been behind the move.

"I am counting on what you fear. I know Lotor better than you do. If he can stand up to me, what makes you think he will crumble before one of them. It is time for him to get a real taste for blood." The Great King seemed confident all would work out well. "Send him. Worse comes to worse, I have two spare heirs waiting in the wings."

The officer bowed but Zarkon could still sense the feelings of grief he felt for the boy. Zarkon sighed. It was rare that he showed any warmth towards his officers. They were nothing to him but tool, but to use tools properly one did have to learn how to work them. He watched his men carefully. He knew Timon had a deep love for his wife and children. So much that he never took part in the debauchery of the court or took pleasure from one of the court slaves as his rank entitled him too.

"You have a son about Lotor's age. You brought him to the Castle during the Kevos Celebration." Timon nodded, shocked that the Great King would remember something so trivial.

"Did he place well in his exams?" The king asked in a relaxed manner. He already knew that the boy placed high.

"Very well, in the top 5%." The officer answered with a proud look on his face. A funny thought had crossed Zarkon's mind – he knew more about this officer's child than his own.

"What academy will he attend." The king pressed on.

"Our family goes to Rissalos." The man looked down. His family's station, like that of most Korronites, had been set for generations. He was not complaining. They lived in a very respectable life with a fine house full of food.

"Not anymore. Now they go to Firos. It will be arranged." Timon's eyes flew open. The King was sending his oldest son to Command School. He fell to his knees and thanked the Great King profusely.

"Timon, I order you to stop worrying about Lotor. Throw away that stupid clipboard. You intel types put to much faith in your statistics. The boy will manage fine. It does not matter that the other cadets do not know who he is. He knows who he is. He is Lotor, son of Zarkon, the Demon King." He gave a small wink to the delighted officer.

"Oh, by the way, how did my son place on his exams. I have not seen the scores. Borak usually takes care of those things." Timon gave him a funny look.

"Sir, you did not know that he took First Place. It was in the news." Timon said incredulously.

"He took first place in swords at a magistrate school. Not something that the media should even mention." The king grumbled back. It was time to end this interview. His schedule was packed for the day.

"Sire, that is not what I am referring too. He took First Place in the entire city. I was there when Magistrate Borak picked up the award for him. I have seen it in his office." The officer answered slowly. He could see the anger rising in Zarkon's eyes.

Later, that afternoon Zarkon stormed into his Royal Magistrate's office. Borak jumped up and fell into submission when he saw Zarkon enter. It was rare that Zarkon made his way down to his office and the man was startled at the Great King's appearance. He sensed the king's mood and began to tremble, but Zarkon said nothing as he moved right past him. He quickly scanned the office walls and grabbed the framed certificate. He noticed it was next to a matching certificate and growled. He glared at Borak. He wanted to throw the man up against the wall but tempered himself.

"You could have told me." Zarkon snarled.

"My Lord, I did in a memo. It was the one that I requested the flight trainer. It was a gift to celebrate his accomplishment." Zarkon took a deep breath. Borak could not be helped for what he was.

"I thought it was for the Tactical Strike Team. I assumed you negotiated the contract with the factory. You tricked me." Zarkon tried to put some anger into his voice, but mostly he was trying to suppress a laugh.

"No. You were bogged down with trade talks with the Langorthians. " Borak answered innocently. "They were difficult negotiations and I did not want to bother you with details."

"You took First, did you not?" The king grumbled.

"As did my son." Borak's face relaxed. "I tried to guide Lotor to discipline himself to the Law. It will help him rule later on."

"I am sending a legalist to the Academy at Neraku. Gods help him." Zarkon roared with delight at the notion. "Old friend, I never truly thanked you for your help. Is there a favor your King may grant you?" Zarkon clutched the framed certificate.

"If it is possible, when you invade Arus, please spare the princess. He has a fondness for her." Borak gave a deep bow to his King.

"Magistrates always request the strangest things.. I will try. By the time he graduates the Academy she might make a good present. By then, he should have an interest in something rather than a flight trainer." Zarkon mused.

"My Lord, is there anything else that you require of me?" Zarkon shook his head. The king left the magistrate's office with a bounce in his step. He ordered his assistant to call up housekeeping to place the certificate in his study. He thought to call in the boy and congratulate him but something would go wrong. It always did. He would go down and say his farewell at the landing bay. For once, he was determined not to argue with the boy.

Lotor had been disappointed that his father would not see him. He wanted to tell him about Arus. He had many things that needed sorting out. The humans had confused him. The only part of his trip that he did not want to share with his father was Allura. His father would have beaten him if he knew how attached he was to the girl. Instead he had confessed all these things to Borak. Borak would nod and listen. He was a man of secrets. He would keep his affection for the girl quiet.

After the last transport landed, Zarkon had actually come looking for his son. He had found the boy sitting in his bedroom. He was talking excitedly with Borak who appeared totally fixated on Lotor's tale. He was surprised that neither felt his presence. Lotor's hands were gesticulating wildly as he was describing his first dive off a waterfall. He was telling Borak about the princess that had followed him everywhere, like a ghoul dog pup. They were laughing. Lotor was actually smiling, something Zarkon had rarely seen him do since his mother had died. As Lotor leaned over close to whisper something to Borak, his hair strayed into Borak's face. Borak moved it away and placed it gently behind the boy's ear. Zarkon's eyes flew open as Lotor did nothing to stop it. They both heard the door slam but by the time they had gone to see who it was the person was gone. They both shrugged, spying around the Castle was a favorite pasttime for all who resided and worked there.

Lotor had little time with Borak before Timon arrived. The man had kind eyes. He was one of his father's intelligence officers. He told Lotor he had a son his age. Lotor thought it an odd thing to bring up. The man was obviously trying to strike a rapport with him, but to remind him that there were children with other realities never helped. Lotor tried to imagine this man with his son. The boy would be greeted with affection, not blows. He would get a safe job in the intelligence branch, find a nice wife and make children that he would not have to bury. He would never know a real Arena. He would die a happy man.

Timon had been surprised by the boy. He had not known that he had the ability to sense other's emotions until their meeting. He went on and on about the human fear of the Drules. He had said again and again that he could sense their weaknesses. He could read a human's face. These things would be useful and were noted in his report. The king would be pleased that this ability had been passed on in his offspring.

Lotor went back to his rooms and collapsed on the large white coach that was placed in front of a viewing screen. He loved this particular piece of furniture. His father had ordered his mother's suite demolished and it was only by happenstance that he saw the couch going to the rubbish bin. He had paid two of the guards to bring it to his room. Even after all of these years he could still catch a whiff of Althea's perfume. She would tell him stories as he drifted off to sleep in her arms. His father had never once visited his suite so he never feared it would be discovered. He decided to put on the video screen hoping to find something interesting to watch. Instead, much to his dismay, his dismissal from Arus was the featured news story. The story would not die. His father, he surmised, would not let it.

Lotor had been at the Castle for only a week when he heard about his imminent departure for Neraku. He considered it odd when he found out he was leaving so soon. The school year did not start for another four months. His father had often gone to Neraku, and he was home within a week. Lotor then saw the ship that was bringing him, an old style transport. His father really knew how to torture him. The trip would take months. He definitely was not going to be arriving in style. Knowing his father, he was probably going to be berthed in the cargo hold with the livestock.

An officer tapped him on his soldier and directed him to where his father was standing. Lotor saw his father talking to Warmaster Charak. In his father's hands was a case of red leather emblazoned with a gold imprint. It was the swords that his father had commissioned so long ago. His father was pointing to him and smiling. Charak motioned him over and Lotor stood before them.

"Sire, your humble son brings you affection." Lotor offered. His father told him to rise.

"Well son, none of us thought you would actually make it in, but the Millitary Academy at Neraku has agreed to accept you. Do not embarrass me." He roughly shoved the case in his son's hands.

"I will not disappoint you." Lotor looked up into the impossibly tall man's eyes. Charak even looked small standing next to him.

"Warmaster Charak has decided to take a posting there as Master of Arms. He will accompany you on the transport." His father added. "He will continue your training on the journey."

"I am honored." Prince Lotor bowed deeply to the warmaster. A wide smile crossed the boy's face. Zarkon could sense the boy's delight in his traveling companion. Zarkon looked away. When was the last time his son had given him a smile like that, maybe when he was six.

"Remember who you are – and you will do fine." Zarkon reached over to touch Lotor's head. Out of reflex, he pulled back. After all, he was not used to his father's caress. For a moment, Zarkon wished things were different between a child who seemed to be more comfortable around his magistrate and a cranky, retired warmaster than his father. Worlds, Zarkon mused, were easy to conquer. Hearts were another matter.

Lotor stared at the case as if waiting for some type of permission to open it. He never knew how to act around the man he called father. One word or look would bring down his wrath and those hated fists.

"Open it. You never got to use that flight trainer Borak ordered. I am proud that you took First." He handed the case over to Charak and gingerly snapped open the locks. His mouth dropped in astonishment as he picked up the first sword and the second. They felt like he was holding on to air as he lit them up. He pirouetted around with them and crossed the blades together.

"Father, I have never felt or seen anything like these before. They are magnificent." The boy exclaimed. His face was shining with the excitement of the gift. He turned them off and put them gingerly in the box. He knew they were worth a king's ransom – it had probably taken three years to cut the lazon crystals. It would have taken months to carve and fit the handles. They were not factory made. The artist probably spent weeks in meditation on their design.

"They were made by Renar himself. I had them commissioned the day after your birth. I think you will do them justice." Lotor swallowed hard when he head heard those words. Of course, they were ordered then. That was the only way they would have been ready for his seventh cycle when his father was supposed to start training him. Zarkon felt his son's intense pleasure turn to bitterness but he did not know why. The boy was an enigma. Any Drule child, a prince or a shopkeeper's boy, knew the value of Renar's swords. The child was ungrateful.

"It is a spectacular gift father. None are their equal. Thank you." All the pleasure had been directed towards the swords and none at the Great King. Charak watched the two interact, each seeming to want more than what was offered. Charak heard the Great King sigh and excuse himself. He left the two of them on the platform.

"Has it always been like this?" Charak murmured.

"Since my mother died. So, Charak, are you going to be my babysitter?" The boy mused as they walked towards the transport.

"No, _shoshi_, I am going to teach you how to kill a man and think nothing of it. In fact, by the time I am through with you, you will actually be craving it. It is time to put your books away. We are leaving the realm of the theoretical." The boy turned around and looked at the night sky. He looked at the stars above. It was a rare sight to see them so clearly. They showed so brightly that he could have been on Arus. It was a gentle reminder of what had passed as reality but was now no more than a dream quickly forgotten.

"I doubt I shall crave it. I am too human." Lotor cried out exasperated. He could feel his panic rising as they walked towards the transport.

"My Prince, a human can kill as easily as a Drule. One only has to look at their history to prove that they are the more bloodthirsty species. They just like to keep their bloodlust sanitized. We, on the other hand, need to see ours in action. Your genetics will not prove a liability and may even make it easier. We have four months, plenty of time." Charak crooned to the boy. Lotor sensed fear in Charak. He wrongly interpreted the feeling. He thought that Charak did not think he could do what he had promised the Great King and feared his father's anger. Instead, had he asked the man, he would have found out it was the opposite. He was afraid that he could not reign in all the anger that the boy felt inside. He feared that the boy was beyond discipline. He had seen something akin to an uncontrollable bloodlust in the small arena at the school . There were those among them that could find this state easily. Usually, society disposed of them as they were dangerous. But how by the gods do you get rid of an imperial crown prince?

For the first time in his life, Lotor did not have to think about anything – except fighting, sleeping and eating. Hours on end, Charak came at him. If it was not with his own body, it was with a virtual trainer set up in the transport. His father had gone to great expense to install it. Its blows felt as real as anything but they were imaginary in the end. Only the pain was real. Charak could stop it or prolong it with a touch of a button.

There were days when he left the boy on the ground sobbing and begging for mercy before it stopped. Finally, it was only when he did not ask for mercy that Charak would discontinue the exercises that led to agonizing pain. Crew members would come by and look in horror as the man calmly tortured the boy. Sometimes, he would ask them to bring a drink or magazine as he patiently watched the boy. There were times when Lotor would curse him and promise his death. Charak would laugh pleased with the threats of the tormented youth.

Eventually, as Neraku approached, the torture stopped. It was time to sit down and have a serious talk with his prince. One that he did not look forward to as the boy could be very sensitive about these matters.

"When we arrive you will not know me." For various reasons, you are no longer Prince Lotor of the Ninth Kingdom. You are a magistrate's son who placed well on the exams. Your king saw potential in you and had graciously paid your tuition. Your father has been known to do this for his officers' sons, so it wil not be looked at as unusual." Charak said as if changing his identity would be like changing his bed sheets.

"And what purpose does this serve?" Lotor asked, annoyed at having to give up his social rank and privilege.

"Your father does not want you acting like all the other nobles' spoiled brats. Most of them are inheriting governorships or are ruling some municipalities – nothing that will demand a lot after they graduate. You, my boy, will be expected to run a huge domain. You need to concentrate on strategy, law, economics and political science. Your father has little love for these rich boys and their decadent distractions. In fact, there is only going to be one other imperial prince while you are there – he is a nasty one called Skath. He'll be a year ahead of you. Keep off his radar." Charak rattled on as he opened up his third bottle of wine.

"From now on, you are no longer Prince Lotor but Cadet Carris." Lotor's eyes opened up and he snorted as Charak handed him a new birth certificate.

He read over the birth certificate and gasped. It listed Borak and Driedal, his much put upon wife as his parents. Carris was his mother's family name of Arus. His father's sense of humor had no bounds, or maybe it was Borak's. He could never tell who was who.

"Carris, really Charak? Who would think that was a Drule name?" He murmured.

"Well, it is better than Lotor. I think you are probably the only child in the whole Universe with that miserable appellation. Althea was such a bitch." Charak said with a bit of admiration in his voice. "What a slap – and your father could do nothing about it. Only a mother can name a child. She would have been an excellent magistrate."

"You knew her? You have never mentioned that before." Lotor looked at him. Of course, Lotor reasoned, he was a warmaster at court when she had lived. Their paths must have crossed."

"Not much to say." Charak shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

"Was she as hated as everyone has told me?" Lotor looked up at the tall man. The boy's eyes were focused like a laser on him.

"By the women, for sure." Charak sleepily answered.

"And the men?" Lotor asked.

"They would have all given their right eye to have one night with that woman. Gods we lusted after her. But that is not a story for a little boy to hear about his mother. Let us say she had an irresistible charm. It is late. It time for you to retire." The warmaster stopped up the bottle and pointed to the door.

"Did he love her?" Lotor's last question stuck in his throat.

"She was his _lotor_ and you were hers. And that is all you need to know about Zarkon and Althea. For your sake, I hope you never find yours. It is the curse that the High Drule falls so easily to." Charak gave a small caress to his ears.

"Too late, Warmaster Charak. I already have. I have been to paradise. It is Arus." And at that, Lotor pushed away from the table. Charak's mouth dropped. Had any other child had said those words he would not have believed it. But then again, had any other child been cursed with such parents to begin with. The gods must have thought they were clever when they created such a boy.

Charak grabbed a bottle of wine and made it back to his quarters. He wondered how he got here in his old age. His thoughts went back to Zarkon's court when he was younger and still confident in his abilities as a warmaster. For two years, he had spied her when he came to visit. For two years, he had lusted after that magnificent creature. Zarkon had dismissed one of the most glorious harems ever assembled and replaced it with a woman who did not want his affections but still the Great King seemed totally satisfied.

The warmaster thought that the woman might find him more desirable. Had she not gushed over his prowess in the Arena. Had she not danced with him provocatively during the Festival of Kator. Her eyes screamed of want and desire for him, of that, he was sure. Sadly, every one of Zarkon's warmasters had thought the same thing at one point or another. Truth be told, she hated the lot of them. It just amused her to cause trouble for her mate.

Charak stood up and challenged the Demon King for her, like many others before. The challenge caused the court to gasp as there was finally a warmaster who could actually best the Great King. The court wondered if Zarkon would give up his jewel to preserve his life. The magistrates filed the challenge in the Imperial Court as Charak was sworn to Zeppo. Zeppo was not to miss this and ordered both men to Drule to battle before him. Zarkon accepted but many thought he would withdraw at the last moment and hand Althea to the legendary swordmaster. Charak was undefeated.

Charak still wondered about what went wrong that day. Zarkon barely moved a muscle but had somehow cleaved his helmet in two. Blood ran down his head as he offered submission and had to beg Zeppo to release him from his vassalage. Only by doing that, and swearing himself to the Korrinoth crown, would his life be spared. He should have won. Instead, he was now sworn to Zarkon for eternity, all for the sake of Althea. Zarkon, he learned then, never could let go of anything he loved. He would rather destroy it than let anyone else possess it.


	3. Chapter 3

Zarkon and Althea

Many times Zarkon had lain awake at night jealous that Charak had inadvertently stolen what was to be his greatest joy, training his first son to sword. He would never be as good as Charak, but he came close. One day, Lotor would surpass him. He might even surpass Charak. He was not there yet. He had fought him when he was a man past his prime, but then again, so was he when they had taken up swords against each other. Zarkon was only a handful of warmasters that had fought Charak to a standstill, and perhaps the only one who would have ever beaten him It was one of his proudest moments. He had almost lost to the great swordmaster but he summoned something close to the bloodlust and kept his sword at bay. He had injured the man in the move he was most adept at – one not for the elegance of the Arena but for the battlefield. He had never been trained to the sword so he new little of the art form. His sword was no more to him than a tool to get what he required and a way to keep what was his.

Zarkon agreed to stop his assault if Charak swore allegiance to him. The warmaster had been Zeppo's vassal, not his. Zeppo looked down from his box and granted his beloved warrior his request to be freed of his oath. Without the release, Zarkon would have taken the man's life. He needed the promise of fidelity to free him. Zarkon smiled with his victory. Loyalty owed by Charak was not a small thing. The fool had challenged the Great King for his woman and effectively lost his freedom.

Althea had watched all of this in great anticipation. Zarkon had told her that she was not worth his life but still he brought her to the great Imperial Arena to watch him fight for her. Zeppo demanded she sit next to him. He had been as curious as everyone else was about this woman who had caused so much chaos in the Ninth Kingdom. She was indeed beautiful but her obvious concern marred her beauty that day. She was nervous and did not say much as the battle progressed. There was no joy in her face when Zarkon won, nor was their sadness. He thought her a beautiful woman but he had taken far more attractive ones to his bed. He did not understand all the fuss as he led her out of his box. It was later that evening, at a state dinner that welcomed Zarkon, that he truly saw the Althea Carris of legend.

Althea entered the main dining hall bedecked in a dress that was more illusion than material. The red silk was cut down to her belly button on one side and her shapely rear on the other. Jewels that only the Demon King could afford were in a necklace that flowed down her front and all the way down her back. That alone would have gotten any Drule male going but the piece of resistance was her neck. Her thick golden hair was piled up high in an intricate bun exposing not one but two bite marks on her neck. They were not there earlier. The Demon King had mated with her since the match, something every male in the room had honed in on.

The Emperor, like a dog in heat, ran over to her. Half the other men in attendance moved closer but kept a respectful distance. Most Drule women would hide the ordeal of a recent mating, and the unwanted attention it attracted, but Zarkon's woman was shamelessly flaunting her husband's success in the bedroom. The women of Drule rarely saw a human since they were far from their borders, but they had heard the rumors that they had no mating season. They knew that in the kingdoms that shared boundaries with the humans that these females were sought after as pleasure slaves, and even mates. It was with envy and lust that their males were staring at the woman, knowing that she could be taken at anytime. The women growled and snarled as she passed; angry that their men were looking at her, some in an obviously aroused state. The men looked at their own women, who mated with them only once or twice a year, and wondered what it would be to have a woman with no season who would allow more than mere _recreation_ on an ongoing basis. Zeppo called her over.

Althea bowed in submission, further revealing her charms. Zeppo licked his lips and sighed as he saw blood well up on her neck.

"Where is Zarkon?" The Emperor asked, his eyes taking in every curve of her body.

"He will be here shortly. He has been negotiating a trading agreement with the Yukors. He begs your forgiveness for the delay." She replied innocently. He felt his hand go to her waist. She pulled away and he growled threateningly. Althea looked at him and smiled. She knew what affect she was having on him. Drules usually kept their women locked up and out of all other male's sights when in season. Mate guarding took a somewhat serious toll on the population as men were willing to come to blows over a fertile female, married or not. The courts were usually very forgiving to a male who had forced such a female, especially if she had been in public or if she was not married. Any male could take her, that is, if they were willing to take on Zarkon.

"Althea Carris, you are not Zarkon's wife. Any of these men can challenge him to the Arena in order to possess you. Perhaps it is best that you choose more modest clothing when attending imperial affairs." Zeppo was still standing uncomfortably close to her. His breathing was ragged. He was becoming heady with her scent as he smelled the estrogen on her skin. She was fertile. He shook his head. He was not even thinking _recreation. _He wanted her in his bed tied to him. Images of a true mating filled his head. He had never once felt that way for his wife, and had taken her out of duty to make an heir rather than out of pleasure. It had taken years before he could bring himself to even that, knowing that a child would forever bind him to the shrew. It did not seem fair that his vassal, the Demon King, was so favored with such a mate. He was lost in his daydream, lustfully undressing the woman, when his wife approached. The Empress tried to stare down Althea who just turned and gave the Emperor, her husband, the most spectacular smirk and a wink that told him of unimaginable pleasure. His own body was raging for her as his wife stood next to him.

"Your Majesty, I beg to differ. He took down Charak today, your finest warrior. Are your men such fools that they wish to taste his sword? As for my dress, the women dress more freely on Korrinoth. I am sorry if I embarrassed any of your guests or their partners but I am a mere slave. My King chooses my clothing." She smiled and bowed again.

"I am sure that his bout with Charak must have been exhausting." Zeppo gave her a lewd smile that he did not even bother to hide from his wife. "I hope that you are worth all his troubles."

"My Lord, my life would have been easier if I was not." The Emperor continued to stare at her delicate skin that had been pierced, not once but twice, by Zarkon's teeth. She lightly touched it causing him to groan in frustration. His wife frowned at him but there was nothing to be done until the Emperor dismissed her. The swollen wounds occasionally leaked a fine line of blood. Several men were licking their lips as she wiped the little trickle away as they had longed to taste it, and taste her. Finally dinner was called and the Emperor let her go. She purposely sat down next to Charak who had not brought a woman.

"Althea, I see you thanked Zarkon for his victory. Will he be here soon?." He mused. Not daring to say what anyone else would. "Perhaps he will give you a boy this time." Charak put his hand on her belly and caressed it. The women of Drule gasped as she let him touch her, for she did not protest. It meant nothing to Althea. It would have meant nothing to Zarkon. The warmaster had sworn his allegiance to the Great King. Any hopes of bedding Althea Carris had died in the Arena that afternoon.

"If he indeed has given me a child I would hope for another girl. Leanarra is no longer a baby. I miss the cuddling." She spoke with Charak as if they were best of friends. "I do not need any more men in my life."

"I hear you already have several marriage offers for Leannara already." Charak was attempting to lighten what he felt was tension he that he felt in the room. He was trying to make her into the fiercely protective mother that he knew she was.

"They mean nothing. Her suitors may come see her a year before she is of age. I hear there are all sorts of rituals that must be adhered to." Althea did not like thinking about her little Leanarra, who actually stood a good five measures already, marrying one of these old lecherous men. She wanted her to go to a secondary school and marry a handsome young man. She did not desire a King, a warmaster or even an Emperor for her child. She just wanted her to have the happiness she had been denied.

"Zarkon keeps her under lock and key. Some say it is because she is so beautiful, others because she takes after her father. So tell me which is it?" The table listened intently.

"I assure you that there is no one quite like her. She is a marvelous creation to behold. She will be spectacular when she comes into her womanhood. Her skin carries only the slightest blush of blue, her eyes are the color of the winter sky, and she has little pointed ears. She neither favors Drule or human, but a unique combination of both." Althea licked her ruby lips.

"It is rumored that she bears the Mark of Jain. Is this true? Althea shook her head no. Now the whole table was listening. Althea would not have had it any other way.

"Her hair is blond like mine. The court gossips still have no proof that he is the bastard son of the Demon Prince." Althea replied. The table was looking uncomfortable as she mentioned the name of that cursed warrior. Althea, being human, was not always in tune to her host's hidden fears.

The Drules were not comfortable with any Wyvern that held great power – after all one of their women had conquered the known Universe. This woman, the Empress Jain IX, was said to be able to forge magic with her bloodlust too as did the defeated Wyvern prince they spoke of. The Wyverns could move entire fleets in minutes during the First Empire with their huge jump gates, a technology that was rumored to still exist in their long forgotten colonies. The Wyverns may have saved them from the human incursion but it had come at a huge price. Jain was insane. She decimated both populations in her quest for religious hegenomy and introduced slavery to make up for the lack of population. She brought them to the brink of destruction by letting their basic instincts run free again. They had no discipline. They were out of control. Then, in a stroke of genius, she composed the Law. The Law would rule all Drules. The Law, though far from perfect, was good. It gave them a set of rules to rebuild their fractured society on. They Wyverns were a curse and a blessing that they could not shake and yet this woman spoke of them nonchalantly.

Zarkon finally made it to the table. The Emperor shot him a glance that indicated he was angry at the king's late arrival. After all, the dinner had been served in his honor. He first offered his submission and then he slipped in next to Althea.

"Your Majesty, forgive my lateness." Zarkon looked content but more than exhausted.

It had only been four hours since he had met swords with Charak. In a surprise move, Althea had joined him in the shower and washed away his sweat. She whispered that she was grateful that he had fought for her. She had no desire to be one of many women in a warmaster's harem. She had never given herself to him so freely before and the thought excited him to no end. He thought it would end at _recreation_, as there was a banquet to attend to but she held him inside of her and urged him to give her a child. He should have resisted.

The Emperor was waiting but she was moaning with pleasure and begged him to stay within her triggering off the inevitable. She had never asked him to mate with him before and he was lost in the ecstasy of the moment. He tied her to him knowing that there would be hell to pay, both physically and politically. For two hours he held her to him, his mind and body lost in ecstasy as he filled her womb again and again. She said comforting words, she stroked his skin and helped him through the madness wondering what could possess him so. Why, she wondered, was this so different from the other, that they had two names to distinguish what type of sex they were having. Deep down, she knew that only this would produce a child, something she had learned both enthralled and scared the average Drule male. It seemed such an inefficient way to reproduce. She hoped that the Drule women enjoyed it more than she did. To her, it was nothing more than sheer torture. It was just a means to an end, and not a particularly pleasurable one. Once a month she put up with this strange little ritual, which she was so generously rewarded.

She gave the king credit. Drules were such an odd lot. They fantasized about it more than doing it. Most men shied away from it, even when their wives were in heat, fearing the emotional turmoil it could trigger or the children it could produce. It turned a ferocious Drule man into a whimpering kitten, but not a warmaster. They were used to unleashing their irrational side and took a perverse pleasure in evoking the insanity of this act. Once the tying was triggered, all Drules, both male and females, were lost to its pull. His teeth, forgetting she was human, sunk into her neck in a vain attempt to trigger ovulation. It meant that he was finishing up which pleased her immensely as she found the whole affair almost unbearable. She was startled by this as he was usually more considerate of her. She was even more surprised when his teeth tore into her a second time but she chalked it up to the day's pressures.

_Recreation_ was one thing, it was no different than what humans did and usually was over with quickly. In fact, it meant little to the Drules, and it was not even counted as adultery. But this obviously was something else. It was animalistic and it occasionally frightened her. She laughed, after the fact, it even frightened the Drules. It had many euphemisms attached to it, but she thought one, the exquisite misery, summed it up best. Exquisite for the pleasure felt during the act, only to be followed by an exacting toll of the Drule psyche. It seemed to her that, from what she understood, the act of procreation brought a brief _lotor_ to all of them.

Zarkon did not trust Althea's intentions that evening. She had not become pregnant in years and he wondered if she was purposely preventing his seed from catching. Women could be clever that way. He had no doubt that Haggar would aide her if she did not want to carry his child. There was not a month that would go by when that witch did not try to wheedle his way back into his bed. As tempting as the witch was, it would have only complicated things with the temperamental woman he viewed as his wife. Though Althea did not really want him, he knew that she would not readily share him either.

He could barely keep awake when her servant came in and did her hair. If she had been A Drule she too would have been too tired to move, her own body would have been in a biological dither as it would have been flooded with hormones. She ordered the servant to pile her golden hair away from her neck. She knew the effect that the bite marks would have on the other men at the dinner; they drove the men at the Great King's court insane. The urge to reproduce was so strong in their species, it shocked her that there were so few children to show for it. The bite marks signaled that she was fertile and willing. The fantasy of being tied to and impregnating a woman was always so much better than the reality of it, she thought, as Zarkon lay recovering in the bed. Her servant put on the elaborate necklace. She went over to the bed and looked down at the helpless male. She leaned over and kissed him gently on the forehead in a seemingly fond way. Zarkon was puzzled at the maneuver but was too exhausted to question it. Althea, as usual, had her own motives for her actions. He would be late and he asked her to make excuses.

"You should not go. It will cause unrest." He was half asleep.

"You would have both of us being rude to our host?" Althea answered back with laughing eyes.

"You are dressed inappropriately. Your neck still drips with blood. Do you want half of Zeppo's court to challenge me for your bed?" She looked at him and smiled.

"You just bested Charak…no one would dare. They will have their wives or their slaves for _recreation _tonight as they dream of what you just fucked." She stood in front of him and whirled around.

"Do not be so crude in what we just shared, it was not _recreation_. You should stay. A proper lady would stay." He tried to pull her close, but he was still weak.

"Lest you forget, I am not a lady. I am your slave." The bitterness tinged Althea's voice. He was not up for a fight with her.

"Another court will hate you…you are impossible. This is just an attempt to humiliate me." He tried to get out of bed and just collapsed back into it. Althea was always shocked that a human could bring a Drule to such a place.

"Not true. It will just add to the legend of the Demon King." She smiled and left him there. That night definitely added to the legend of Althea Carris. Every word she said was true. The men went home that evening and took slaves or wives to bed thinking of that bitch goddess who had so shamelessly revealed herself to them. They dreamed of her being tied to them as they partook in their so called _recreation_. Many were disappointed that their bedmates paled in comparison to the images of her that ran through their heads. They envied the monstrous king who took her to his bed every night, secretly wishing they had the nerve to challenge him in the Arena. She was Althea, the Ice Queen and she caused them all to burn for her, the men with desire and the women with hate. She hated all Drules and would have it no other way.

She returned to her suite that night with a wicked grin on her lips. Zarkon smiled as he walked in behind her, his strength having returned. He knew that he would go to take her again and she would push him away. She truly kept him in exquisite misery.


	4. Chapter 4

Neraku – First Day

With great excitement, the transport approached Neraku. From space it looked like a large red, white and blue marble. Its iron rich continents were broken up by its immense oceans. Its atmosphere covered by large burnt orange cloud systems it was a far cry from the black clouds that covered Korrinoth. After the transport landed, he could see a lush green forest in the distance. An upperclassman was there to meet him at the dock with a file in his hand.

"My name is Cadet Horan. Your three days late, Cadet Carris." The boy seemed to want to challenge him for no particular reason.

"Sir, we were delayed by a solar storm in the Terak system. The ship that brought me was a 784 Style transport. They handle slowly in them." He looked up as the upper classman rifled through his papers.

"Your king was willing to pay for your tuition but would not splurge on the flight. I guess he does not put much faith in his future warmaster. Looking at you, I do not blame him. You are small for a child of Korrinoth, are you not?" the upper classman said as he led him to the vehicle.

"Yes sir, I am." Lotor answered back. He did not like where this was going.

"They are going to give you shit about your hair. It is not regulation length. I wonder what the rules are pertaining to it. The nobles get to keep theirs." The upper classman looked away as his hand touched the ignition pad. The boy hit the accelerator and they headed off to the base. Lotor looked at the window. It was only the third time he had been off world and the newness of the planet excited him. The youth looked at him and smiled.

"It must be exciting for you to be on Neraku, especially after living on Korrinoth. They say it is the most depressing place in the galaxy." Horan's voice had softened up. Lotor could tell the tough guy personality did not really apply to the teenager.

"Yes, sir, being on Neraku is exciting. As for Korrinoth, it has its own beauty. Few appreciate it." Lotor answered. He was not really paying attention to the conversation. Horan, however, was a curious type.

"It must be weird to know you are related to the legendary Empress Jain? Is it true, can you read minds?" The upper classman looked at him strangely.

"No, sir. I cannot read minds. People exaggerate the abilities associated with the Mark of Jain. I even doubt the whole direct descendant thing. It is just a genetic mutation." Lotor yawned. In his excitement he did not sleep the night before.

"But you are super smart. That ability exists, am I right? I looked at your file and we are taking advanced applied mathematics together. I do not like to brag, but I excel in that area and you are at least four years my junior." The boy seemed excited to talk. Perhaps, he thought, he had some great love of equations. Lotor did not. Math, like most things, was just a means to an end. Lotor was pleased that the earlier menace in the cadet's voice had dissipated.

"People tell me I am smart." Lotor answered with some hesitation, not really sure what the protocol was between new cadets and upperclassmen.

"I hacked into the Tenth Kingdom's Defense Network. It was a pretty stupid thing to do. It was in all the news over there. The magistrate that defended me was sure I was going to be executed but instead I ended up here. A weird punishment, huh?." The youth continued on. Lotor took it as a type of bragging. Everyone was at this Academy because they were either the child of someone important or they were unusually gifted in some area.

"I would not know, sir." Lotor was annoyed that the youth kept trying to get him to converse. He wanted to just sink into the woodwork while he tried out his new persona.

"I assume you already know how to use a sword. It seems that everyone from Korrinoth comes with one." Horan gave another one of his funny looks. "Must be nice to come from such a rich world. I hear that you cannot walk more than three measures without hitting a hunk of the stuff."

"Not exactly, sir. It has to be mined. And it is very volatile before it is processed. If what you said was true our citizens would be exploding everywhere." Horan seemed to like this image and roared with laughter. By now, they had entered the base. Horan drove up to a cement barrack, checked the paper work one more time and handed it off to Lotor. He pointed to a concrete building.

"Heads up, and make sure you keep the abdominable muscles tightened when you walk in. The head cadet of the barracks is going to slam you. It is sort of an initiation right. I'll see you tomorrow in math. The professor is an ass." Horan smiled. Lotor was not sure that he wanted to be associated with this young man. He was a bit quirky to say the least.

Lotor entered the building. He looked at the long barrack filled with bunk beds, desks and lockers and boys clad in dark uniforms. Some were chatting while others had their heads over their learning pads. Two of them were wrestling in the corner. All in all, the barracks held thirty or so students. They made the dorms at his last school seem sumptuous in comparison. In the back he saw more doors. He was only there for a few minutes when a very tall Drule approached him. The younger boys ran back to get the senior cadet who had a bedroom off to the side. A very tall Drule with red eyes came out to greet him.

"Are you reporting for duty, cadet?" The teenager eyed him over. He was probably only a year or two older than Lotor but he towered over him. He immediately fixated on the lush head of hair and an evil smile crossed his face.

"Yes, sir. Cadet Carris reporting." He stood up straight and saluted. This youth leaned over and growled, behind him stood another tall boy who possessed an equally vicious look on his face.

"There must be a mistake. The Commandant cannot be serious when he accepted you. Look at you. I doubt if they have a uniform that will fit you." And with that, the first punch landed deep into Lotor's stomach. It was unexpected and the wind was knocked out of him. He gulped for breath

The other one circled around him and grabbed his hair and landed another one. "Look at him. He should have been sent to the female barracks. He is prettier than most of the girls over there." The other cadets, who were watching rather quietly up to this point, actually started to gasp. The older cadet grabbed the other one and pulled him back.

"Yorak, you must be the dumbest piece of shit they ever accepted here. Are you insane? There are witnesses to this sacrilege." He snarled and threw the other against the wall. The senior cadet followed up with a hand at his victim's throat.

"He is supposed to show us submission." The other male weakly said as he tried to pull the hand away. Lotor was more surprised that the larger boy capitulated so easily. He could have torn the other one easily apart.

"He did not offer it. When he does you may run your fingers through it or braid it full of flowers for all I care– but for now leave it alone. Your actions were inappropriate." The tall Drule leaned over and whispered into the other's ears. "Peasants, you will never understand what it is to have royal blood run through your veins." The boy got off of the other student and walked over to Lotor.

"Cadet Carris, I am Cadet Skath. Hall 8 is under my charge. You have been assigned the last bunk. Teron will bring you over to intake. We awake at 5:00 for exercise and meditation." A young cadet snapped to attention and motioned Lotor to follow.

"Welcome to the Academy." Teron said when he was sure the upperclassmen were out of earshot. Lotor followed the other cadet past the other barracks into the first major complex. "You caused quite a commotion." The boy laughed.

"I seem to have that reaction on people." Lotor mumbled back.

"It is that building. Can you find your way back? " Lotor nodded and the boy left him alone. He walked into a building where a bunch of androids were ready to finish his intake. He was poorly fitted with the dark uniform of a cadet. Skath was right. There was nothing in his size. The droids handed him his schedules, his study pads, and the rules and regulations. He thought it was a bit unfair that he had to agree to them before he read them – something that would have caused his former instructors to cringe. Four years of schooling had already gone to waste.

Back in the barracks, Skath was rummaging through the luggage deposited on the bed. His friend, Yorak, was standing behind him; their previous argument being well behind them. Skath's long fingers pointed to the case of leather. His fingers snapped open the locks and he gave out a long whistle.

"Yorak, come look." He pointed down to the polished sword bases. His took off his glove and caressed one of the swords lovingly. "This is why you need to be careful. I saw the case when he walked in. I do not care what his file says. He is no magistrate's son. A magistrate could never afford these." Skath's voice dropped to a whisper.

"My Prince, they look just like yours." Yorak swallowed hard.

"They are similar. They bear the mark of the House of Renar. He only accepts three, maybe four, orders a year. I am even beginning doubt he is of Korrinoth, perhaps he is the son of a Guildmaster or an Archon from the Western Territories. He has High Drule and Wyvern written all over him. They would hide a son behind a false name, they are always fearful of a kidnapping for ransom. Garek hangs around with the Westerners, maybe they know who he is." The young man paused for a moment. His red eyes glittering in the soft barrack lights.

"Still, we need to be wary. A Korronite will mate with just about anything if it looks good. If he is from that cursed planet he will know how to use them. Do not give him an excuse to get you into the Arena." Skath whispered.

"You think that little mouse can take me." Yorak snorted.

"A Korrinite with a training sword could take you. They are not to be trifled with. They live for the Arena." Skath shot back. He shut the case. "I just wonder who our pretty little boy is?"


	5. Chapter 5

The Attack on Arus

Several months had passed since his arrival. Life had fallen into a particular rhythm as it was wont to do in an institutionalized setting. Things had not been so different than the magistrate school. He still got beat up rather frequently, but this time his instructors were the main culprits. Most of the other students avoided him. He was looked upon as the strange hybrid reputedly from Korrinoth. Lotor looked up at the red tinged sky.

He was daydreaming as the economics professor droned on. He really did not need to pay too much attention, he reasoned, as he would just graph the solution to the problem in the end. Instead, he imagined he was in a fighter pilot taking down a Galactic Alliance attack ship. He imagined flying into a Doom landing dock and his father was greeting him with affection. It was a recurring fantasy that kept him entertained during his lectures. He was drawing the ship of his dreams when the paper was pulled out from under him. Lotor cursed himself for being too involved with his sketch as he should have sensed his teacher's arrival or at least the quiet of the class as she approached. In her hand was a long stick. He knew she was going to call him to the front of the room and beat him in front of his classmates. The pain would be nothing, the humiliation and the jeers from his classmates as she would berate his Korrinoth heritage would be what really stung. He could already hear the insults she would throw at his people and his world that would make him cringe. He wondered why his father had sent him to an Academy where you could not call the instructors into the Arena; there was something, as the humans would say, _just wrong_ about that.

Lotor was literally saved by the bell, or the public address system. All of a sudden all the students heard a commotion in the halls. Adult voices were yelling. The students were ordered to their appointed assembly halls where their headmasters would meet them. With great excitement, the class exited. Students were streaming through the halls and he thought he was sure he had heard both the names of Korrinoth and Arus being repeated again and again. A sick feeling hit his stomach.

The first year students piled into their assembly hall, some taking their seats while others could not help but stand as the giant media screens were filled with horrific images of the attack. He looked away as he saw robeast after robeast decimate cities and villages. He saw images of his father's own star cruiser blasting away at the Castle that was the closest thing he had to a home in years. His father's military spokesperson, General Sorat was on the feed. Zarkon had deposed of the King and Queen of Arus. He was desperate for mention of the Princess but none came. His father had finally done it. He had started a war with the humans. Lotor sighed. Alfor was a bit of a fool. He should have joined the Galactic Alliance after angering his father. It always came down to the lazon. The humans in the Denubian Galaxy were so desperate to get their hands on it that they had welcomed his father with open arms. Planet after planet had welcomed him, sure that they could pacify Zarkon with lucrative trade agreements. That would have worked with most Drule rulers, if they were not been dealing with a warmaster. But a warmaster never really relinquishes what is rightfully his, especially not Zarkon. Lotor knew that Arus was only the start. His father was going to take back everything he had given with interest acrued.

That night, he watched all the news feeds hoping to gleam anything. It seems Zarkon attacked after the trade agreements between Korrinoth and Arus fell apart. The tension had escalated after the Crown Prince of Doom had been attacked by Drule hating humans. The prince, according to reports, had been severely injured and was recovering in an unknown facility. The court at Arus rigorously denied the report and presented the injured boys who had disputed the account. The Drules argued back what child could have produced that much damage against four older boys. Eye witnesses had confirmed that the Prince had not been seen in months. Rumors were circulating that he was paralyzed or brain dead which Zarkon's court denied. His father had somehow whipped up enough fervor over the Arus Incident (as it was now being called) as the excuse to attack Arus.

Arus had been surprisingly easy to take. They had no enemies and their military reflected that belief. In disbelief, he watched his father execute both King Alfor and Queen Alanna. He turned away when the whirl of a blond child came across the scene. She too was cut down before his covered eyes. His father was standing there and gloating to some extent as the bodies fell to the ground. Lotor cursed Coran for not protecting them. He then went into the bathroom and started to vomit. Allura was dead. His father had killed the only real friend he ever had.

That night he could not sleep. He went to breakfast but he could not eat anything. He went into the small vestibule that existed for meditation. He should have been done in fifteen minutes. There was not much to think about here. But today was different. He locked the door and refused to budge when the bells signifying the periods passed. All day, his classmates came by, his instructors came by and then a priest, all asking him to come out. Finally, the Commandant came into the Meditation Hall. He ordered Lotor out. Finally, the red eyed boy exited the vestibule. He was still shaking.

The Commandant was standing over him. Cadet Skath was standing next to him. The Commandant did not care whatever angst Lotor was feeling or why. He did not want to know about how he needed to place his feelings; that was something for a Wyvern, not a Drule. He made some comments about how a future warmaster needed to put his feelings aside. Lotor was glad that he did not inquire to why the cadet was acting this way; it would have only confused the situation as he was not in the state to make up a quick lie. He ordered him back to the barracks with Skath who relished the idea of disciplining the mysterious cadet. He spent the next week in the infirmary recovering from a lazon whip. The healer removed any signs of the torture but the memory of the pain scarred him. It would have been some comfort to know that millions of light years away another child was also sobbing in the dark. At least, he would have known that she survived.

The first attack was a strange thing. There were no ships. There was no sign of the Drules. A strange apparition of a beautiful goddess appeared and drew King Alfor's mighty mecha robot to the stars. It was then hurled the back to Arus in pieces. For a month, the king salvaged what he could of the mighty robot. Its metal turned into five lions that could merge back into the semblance of what was. The lions were hidden by King Alfor, so afraid he was that their destruction was a punishment from the gods themselves. Coran was not a religious man and he scoffed at this. He begged King Alfor to shore up his defenses, but there was little money in the treasury.

Ten more months passed by without any incident. The tensions between the Drules of Korrinoth and Arus had continued. They were using their prince's visit as an excuse to break their trade agreements. Zarkon owed them a substantial amount of lazon that was never delivered. The Arusian economy was on the brink of disaster without the promised energy source. Since Arus was not a member of the Galactic Alliance nor the SUpremacy, there was no court to bring it to. The Drule Supremacy, wither way, would not have felt bound to enforce a ruling. But occasionally, for the sake of peace, their Emperor Zeppo or King Bhorn would step in. Oddly enough, the Drule Supremacy agreed to hear the case under their Law. Coran had counseled against it, but King Alfor was getting desperate. Zarkon concocted a story of the irreversibly damaged prince that had been sent to Hestos, a world deep within the Western Territories, known for its healers. It would be impossible to bring him back to bear testimony. King Bhorn seemed to believe Zarkon and had ordered an investigation. And that is when Zarkon struck claiming to be a wronged father. The trial had been nothing but a ruse.

THe attack came like rolling thunder. Zarkon had unleashed multiple robeasts, each capable of annihilating entire towns and cities on their own. He had employed all of his star cruisers supported by his attack fighters. And to finish it all of, his elite royal guard stormed the Castle. It was these men who had captured the King and Queen and presented them to Zarkon. Zarkon beheaded both of them instantly. He wanted to know where the Princess was.

It was Borak who brought him the Princess. He had been ordered to come. He had the surrender papers that King Alfor had refused to sign. His men could not find the Princess and Zarkon sent Borak out with the search parties. Zarkon trusted him to recognize her as she had talked to him frequently when he was talking to Lotor on the vid coms. Borak had dragged the girl in front of Zarkon; she was screaming and trying desperately to break free. She collapsed to the ground in a huddled position when she saw the bodies of the King and Queen, their blood still dripping on the ground. She was speechless and trembling. Zarkon looked at the quivering child and his Royal Magistrate who was ashen at the prospects of what was about to occur.

"My Lord, spare her. She is only a child" Borak begged of his king. Zarkon sensed desolation in the man. Borak, he knew, was kindhearted in general and as a father of eleven, he totally adored children.

"She is the only heir to Arus. She will become a symbol for her people to rally around. She must die." Zarkon pulled his sword and the child screamed. Borak let her go and backed away. He turned away as the Great King cut her down, the small body crashing down next to her parents in a bloody, burnt mess.

"Dear friend, I am sorry you had to see that. It is not in your soul to tolerate such things." The King said with some regret, not for the girl, but for his favorite magistrate.

"It was only a human. What's one more?" The magistrate softly said.

The king turned to the room filled with soldiers and prisoner. "Today was a great victory for us against the humans. We shall take back the land which belongs to the Drules. For the glory of Korrinoth and the Supremacy, we shall defend our galaxy from these intruders." His men were roaring victory into the night. Zarkon kicked the bodies in front of him. He had not felt this good for a very long time.

It was Borak who had found Coran and Allura hiding. The magistrate's sensitive ears had picked up the frightened child's voice as one he had recognized. He had ordered the guards to search another floor, claiming they needed to clear the room so he could talk to Zarkon. Who were they to question a member of the inner circle?

"Allura, I know you are here with someone. I can hear you. I have sent the guards away. You are all that's left of your family and Zarkon means to kill you. You need to get away from here." Borak's voice carried through the room.

It was Coran who stepped forward with a blaster.

"Coran, killing me will not change tonight. The blaster will only serve to bring back the guards. You are wasting precious time. Take her and flee." Borak demanded. "They will not come to this room as long as I am here. I will throw her to you." Borak pointed to the window.

"This is a trick. Why would you do this?" Coran angrily shouted back.

"Because Coran, I do not serve Zarkon. I am sworn to the throne. One day the prince will rule, and it serves the throne not to have a ruler with a devastated soul. You cannot understand this, so do not try to. I do it for my prince and you should do it for your dead king. Save her." Borak insisted.

"I don't have much of a choice but to trust you, do I?" Coran knew they were trapped.

Borak went to the window and yelled something in Drule. Within moments, the area was clear. Coran jumped down and the Drule threw him the child. It was about twelve feet and both men held their breath. He heard the two sets of footsteps hurry off into the night. He met the guards in the hall and demanded to see all the prisoners. The girl, a daughter of a noble house, sat there cowering with her mother in the corner.

"How clever of you to try to hide the princess, but no matter I have found you out." He sneered.

"She is not Allura. Her name is Kira. She is mine." The woman sobbed. THe woman looked very much like the dead queen. Borak punched her in the back of the head knocking her unconscious. The Drules did not think Borak was lying. After all, a sworn noble, would hide their own prince in this fashion. He dragged the screaming girl to Zarkon and presented her.

Borak did his best to beg her life. He had reminded the Great King he owed him a favor, a dangerous thing to do as one could not demand such a thing. Even if he was found out, he could fabricate a believable lie. He could claim confusion later – the child bore an uncanny resemblance to the princess. The humans all looked alike. Still, the Great King did not relent. It devastated him to hand the child over but he had to follow through as soon as he presented the falsehood. He had his own children to think of. He looked at the crying girl and remembered that her mother had called her Kira, a name that he would remember for all of his days. Kira must die, he said to himself, so Allura could live. It was the most he could do for Lotor. It was his job to solve the impossible.

It was several months before Lotor could even start to feel anything remote to normal again. He had almost been thankful for his injuries. Pain was a far more preferable thing to focus on rather than the reality of his only friend's death. Soon, the staff removed the mind numbing drugs and his thoughts returned to Allura and Arus, his destroyed paradise. The medical staff was kind enough; one of the nurses even brought him in a home cooked meal in hopes of inspiring his diminished appetite. They even brought in a priest to talk to him, but Lotor knew not to trust anyone with his inner turmoil. The staff thought he had been depressed by his punishment, he would not have been the first student broken by a lazon whip and there was talk about switching his program or sending him home. It was Charak who came to talk to him.

"They want to send you home. They say the whip has broken your spirit. They think you are useless now. Are you?" The warmaster sat on the edge of Lotor's bed.

"Maybe I do not want this life anymore. I do not want to be a warmaster that just takes and takes. He did not have to destroy Arus and her ruling family. Do not believe the media, they were good people" Lotor moaned and rolled back unto his side.

"So, this is about your father's latest exploits. This is about Arus, home to your mother." Charak let out a small smile.

"He used me as the excuse. I hate him. He always lies." Lotor fumed.

"Boy, all Drules lie. You will too one day." Charak laughed.

"Charak, did you ever lose something that was so precious that you wanted to die?"

"I used to live on Drule. I had one of the finest villas and a large harem. I was the personal champion of the Emperor. And then, out of arrogance, I lost it all and I had to move to Korrinoth to serve the Demon King. Your father's warmasters actually commanded fleets, something I was not suited for. I became useless and wanted to die. I was nothing more than one of his prizes."

"Zeppo challenged my father. I have never heard of this." Lotor looked up, expecting to finish the story.

"Zeppo did not, I did." Charak sighed.

"Why would you challenge father?" Lotor asked with some curiosity.

"Arrogance. I wanted something that he possessed and I thought should be mine. Lotor look at me. Arus was never yours. It will never be yours, not in the way you want it to be. It is just a planet. There are thousands of them. We want to believe something is more special because it has a certain shine, but it is all an allusion." Charak looked at the boy. He picked up his chin he wiped the tears away.

"I do not want to be a warmaster. I do not want to be like him." Charak saw the stubbornness in the boy's eyes and shook his head. He lowered his voice; sure that only Lotor could hear.

"Look at your hands. You have yet to grow into them. I have known you since you were small, and even though the court joked about your size, the warmasters were never so harsh. We carried you on our shoulders. We welcomed you into our fold. We know what hands like these mean. They are not for a gentle purpose. You cannot escape your true nature." Charak held Lotor's hands up against his, Charak's were barely larger than his own. "You do not have to be like him, but you have to accept what you are."

"Why did you challenge him?" Lotor asked with a cocked head and a sly smile.

"Althea." Charak answered with a slight growl in his voice. Lotor had not been surprised at his answer. It had been a common enough occurrence when he was a child.

"Did you love her?" The boy looked quizzically at the man.

"No. I just wanted her. It was the only time I ever lost." Charak looked down, almost embarrassed to admit his failure of so many years ago.

"You were a fool to try. Zarkon would have never given her up." Lotor stated as if his winning was a forgone impossibility. "He never gives anything up."

"Why not? She was not so important. After all, he did kill her." Charak got up. Lotor could tell he did not want to be reminded of his misfortune by a boy. The last words were meant to hurt him so he would shut up.

"You do not understand. The only way to rid yourself of _lotor_ is by destroying it." Lotor sighed.

"Then you should feel glad that your father has decimated Arus." Charak stiffly said. He would never understand this family he was sworn to. He was grateful when this assignment was over. Zarkon agreed to finally free him. What use was an old warmaster anyway? He would return to his beloved Drule and serve out the rest of his years under Zeppo. All he had to do was make sure this boy stayed alive and kept out of trouble.

"Arus is not gone." Lotor said wistfully. "If it was I could move on." Lotor paused and looked up at Charak. "I would like to schedule exercises with you." Lotor's voice picked up. "It would be good to handle a sword again." The young prince paused for a moment. "How come you never let me train with the other students? You tell them it is because I am small and they would hurt me."

"And what do you want me to tell them?" Charak asked, not surprised that the question would come up. "Shall I say that I have been training you for years and that they may just as well put down their swords for the Crown Prince of Doom. Your supposed to be sequestered away, dying slowly in a hospital ward." Charak smiled. "What do you tell them?"

"I tell them to mind their own business. Why have you just constructed a stupid lie to mollify me? " The boy looked at the old warmaster.

"The real truth is that you scare me. I am afraid that you are not disciplined enough." The boy looked crestfallen. Charak, in a moment of kindness, went to pat Lotor's head. He felt the strong grip of the young boy, forceful considering his size, halt his hand. Charak withdrew it.

"Charak, do not forget your place. You are not one to admonish me for discipline." Charak shook his head. How could Lotor ever doubt what he was? He was the son of the Demon King and the Ice Queen, and just like them, bred to bring misery and destruction to every life they touched.


	6. Chapter 6

First Year - Break

Lotor wondered if his father would make some arrangements for his departure. He could have booked his own passage home but he was not quite sure if his father wanted him there. As usual, any communiques from home had gone through Borak, which made more sense now than ever as they all played out this charade. He assumed it was Borak who had come up with the idea to transport all the Korrinoth cadets back home, courtesy of their Great King. He sent a battle cruiser to get them, much to Bhorn's chagrin. Having a Doom warship in his airspace did not thrill the old king, but Zarkon argued that his future officers needed to be exposed to a real military attack ship. Lotor, along with his fellow Korronite students, was thrilled at the opportunity.

Lotor mostly stayed on the brig. General Yurak, well knowing he was transporting special cargo, preferred to keep the boy close. Lotor was all over the place, asking a thousand quesitons, exhausting the men and annoying the droids. Yurak had to laugh, the boy was a curious one. He saw little of Zarkon in him. The boy, for one, had a wicked sense of humor. When things got out of hand, which they did on several occassions, he sent him down with one of the officers to the gym and made him run laps. Usually, after an hour or two, a more sedate young man was returned to him.

After the students were escorted to the receiving area, Lotor, along with the other students were told to fall into a postion of submission. Zarkon met the students at the transport bay, genuinely looking pleased to see them. Lotor was hoping to see Borak there, but it was hard to see anything over his father's royal guard. Eventually, the royal magistrate appeared, respectfully standing behind his King. His father had said some gracious words, encouraging their studies and then they were summarily escorted away to meet their waiting families. Lotor had quietly pointed out the magistrate to the others, trying to reinforce the lies that he had told. In all the confusion and excitement, Lotor doubted that his fellow students even realized that he had been left alone on the platform with the Great King, alone that is, if you did not count the twenty guards that accompanied his father.

"You have grown. You have improved. I still think they need to feed you more." Zarkon said as they walked briskly back into the fortress that dominated the mountainside. Lotor, along with his guards, had to move in double time just to match the long strides of the tall Drule.

"We can always go to the commissary after classes. They have plenty of meats there, but they do not taste as good as cook's. " Lotor said with a smile. His father seemed content. He had been worried that he would be displeased with him. His grades had slipped since the Arus attack. He had gone to the Academy, fully planning to take the First Student spot upon graduation, but that dream was now gone. He was sure that his father had heard about his behavior and was disappointed with him, but he said nothing. Lotor breathed a sigh of relief when his father asked him to join him for the evening meal and the topic was not broached. His father asked him more about what they were teaching him and then made some comment about how most of his instructors's theories were interesting but incorrect. Empires, he told the listening youth, can only be built when you have peace. Peace comes through submission. Submission, unfortunately, usually demands blood. The trick, he said as he leaned into Lotor, was to hit the first target hard. Overkill was neccessary. Once it falls the others will follow, or at least, it will make them seem easier for a conqueror to take.

"Is that why you sent Arus back into the Stone Age, to make the others kowtow. Could you have chosen another world like Pollux or Tyrus?" Zarkon's eyes narrowed to slits. It never ceased to amaze him how the boy would start to goad him. Arus, due to Althea, would always be a sore subject. Lotor had developed a strong affection for that world, something he had feared when the witch suggested he go there. She had been adamant that Batak, the Wyvern god of war, had spoken to her in dreams. He had to go to Arus. He needed his own _lotor_ to drive his soul. Zarkon had been against it; he more than anyone knew that a _lotor_ could devastate the soul. The witch insisted. It was only if his child was possessed with such a burning obsession, she told him, that he could rise to the greatness that Zarkon sought. If his son risked losing his soul in such a gamble, it was certainly worth the risk. The witch reminded Zarkon that he had already lost his for much less. He let the boy go to Arus.

Zarkon looked at the boy and considered several far more preferable options than the one he had chosen. He could have declared him unfit and smashed his skull into a mountainside, saving the whole galaxy from what he spawned with the dark gods' blessings. He should have kept him at the magistrate's school and made him into a king who ruled by the law, denying him the skills of a warmaster. Best, he thought, his kingdom be slowly absorbed in future generations by more ferocious families through marriage alliances than be used as a stepping stone for the prophesized young conqueror before him. For awhile, Zarkon thought the whole thing was some insane dream on his part. Lotor, had indeed been born with the Mark of Jain, but that was not totally unexpected. Zarkon's father had reportedly been the Wyvern warlock prince. Though not as noticeable in his son, and existing not at all in his daughter, Zarkon bore the long fangs of that race which seemed to reinforce the strange tale.

Zarkon looked at the boy and smiled to himself. Zarkon was not attractive by even the low standards of the Korrinoth. He was amazingly tall. He stood a good seven measures, and unlike some of the warmasters, his body parts were in total proportion. He could thank his Wyvern father for that. He happily did not look like a Wyvern, a hideous race. Luckily, his Korrinoth genes dominated. Zarkon knew that Haggar spent alot of energy in not revealing her true form. He, the closest thing she had to a confidant, had never even seen her in her true form.

When Haggar first appeared to him she was as beautiful as a goddess, and he would have taken her as his queen had not the dreams come. Even Althea had not matched the beauty of the witch, it was that only that overwhelming mix of charisma and a seductive smirk that drove the men insane. Althea was sex incarnate, but the undisputed beauty of his court was Haggar. Odd, he thought, no one, not even he, cared that it was all an illusion. He was certain that the witch had cast a spell on all of them to accept her, even Lotor had adored the woman who had so detested his mother.

After Haggar attacked Voltron her magic had been weakened. Although, she could make herself beautiful for brief periods of time, it exhausted her. Now, all she could muster was an ugly old woman, revealing not only her true age but her diminished appearance. Few knew that as hideous as she appeared, she did not reveal her true form which would have made most of them run screaming. Wyverns, the most ancient of the known races of the Denubian Galaxy, had learned long ago that their form caused revulsion in every other race they encountered. It made no sense, others were just as monsterous to behold, but there was something that seemed to radiate pure evil about their appearance. It was said looking into the eyes of a Wyvern was like looking through a portal to Hell, their insatiable obsession with power obvious to all that dared catch their gaze.

Zarkon remembered how pleased he was when the doctor had handed him his new son to hold. He nearly jumped for joy when he saw Lotor's clumsily large hands, totally out of proportion to his body. Althea saw them and cried, thinking it was part of some genetic syndrome. Nerok and Zarkon reassured her that they were caused by a series of recessive genes that were trigered off by testosterone. She could relax, her son was perfectly normal and would grow into them. Neither Nerok or Zarkon had the nerve to tell her that she had given birth to a warmaster, something she vowed never to do. Her son, she claimed, would be a gentleman prince.

Zarkon spent many hours nipping at the fingers of those hands, biting down his son's soft claws. In those days, Lotor's nannies would bring him into the court where he would climb on the Great King's lap and pull on his ears. His fondest memory of Lotor's toddler days were of those chubby mitts and all the future they promised. For some unknown reason, Zarkon had found himself in the Castle's kitchens one day. Lotor was also there, being fed by a frustrated nanny. He refused to be fed with a fork so she had cut up his food and put it on a plate in front of him as she held the squirming tot on her lap. He watched in total fascination as Lotor tried to pick up the small bites of meat his nanny had cut for him. His fingers were too large and he did not have the dexterity to do it. It did not take long for the toddler's infamous temper to emerge. He somehow managed to free himself enough from his nanny so that he was able to reach the plate. He then unceremonoiusly dumped it on her head while yelling he was hungry. She burst into tears as the child growled at her and demanded more. He had not noticed his father, and he had started to cry when Zarkon roared with laughter. Zarkon told the nanny to take a break, while he tried to feed the tempermental child. In the end, the boy grabbed a hunk of uncut meat and tore into it. The nanny, still watching in the corner, had tisked her disapproval at both of them. Zarkon however was pleased, he was eating like a warmaster would at a victory celebration; without the presence of cultured women in attendance.

Zarkon looked at Lotor, his question still hanging in the air. He still had not figured out what to say back. He shook his head, remembering that they had all been a gracious family, if not a happy one. As much as Althea professed to hate their father, she certainly had loved her children and had been pleased that Zarkon was a good father when he had the time. And every once in a while, he could stop being king, stop being a warmaster, and be a father to the boy with the hellish temper. Why had she tried to take that away from him?

"I would have had a celebration tonight but the Feast of Lerasa is tomorrow and it seemed redundant. You should be thrilled, it is your favorite holiday." Lotor nodded solemnly. His father, by bringing up the holiday, had made it clear tht Arus was not a topic of discussion. Indeed, his father was right, the holiday had been his favorite when he was young. His people would be honoring the goddess of the hunt, Lerasa. Though it was summer on Neraku, it was fall on Korrinoth, at least on this half of the world. It was the time of the year when Korinoth's prey was most plentiful. The morning would start out with an all day hunt and end with a lavish banquet. The families of his officers and the preferred woman of the warmasters, with their rambunctious children, would attend. There would be no acts of sexual decadence, no executed slaves in the Arena, and the steward would make sure that the wine was watered down so that there would be a civilized evening to be enjoyed by all. Lotor knew, that before he left, his father would throw one of the other parties, the ones that only warmasters were invited to. He cursed himself for wishing that tomorrow was that party. School was down right tame compared to what happened in his father's court.

Lotor yawned. There was little fight in him tonight. He made it up to his private chambers and crawled into the huge bed. Its softness seemed almost heavenly. For almost one and a half Korronite years, he had slept on a hard floor so he did not have to make his bed in the morning and ruin its regulation perfect sheets. It was so hard to get the corners exactly right, one needed a ruler with a straight edge. He looked forward to waking up to his favorite cook's breakfast. He could already taste the meat, coated in fat, in his mouth. He wiped the drool off his chin. It was embarrassing to lust already for something he had just had. He cursed himself for lacking discipline as he fell to sleep. He had been exhausted. He was surprised that Althea found him that night as his utter exhaustion should have blockcked her way.

The witch had taught him long ago that he would have especially vivid dreams. She told him not to fear them as they could have multiple meanings. She told him to see her if any of the dreams started repeating themselves. She was no seer, but she could help him with the easier ones. The dreams came, and there were a handful that continually reoccured, but for some reason he did not tell the witch. The one that he hated the most, the one that left him frustrated, scared and dripping in sweat, had to do with Althea. The witch had hated her, and somewhere in the back of his mind, she had something to do with the events of that night. If nothing else, she could have tried to stop Zarkon. She could always get him to listen to reason when he was full of anger. Althea could not even do that and he felt that is why his mother tolerated the woman's presence in his father's court. Instead of stopping it all, she was watching and smiling with the smug look of victory on her lips.

The dream was always the same. He saw her in his father's royal forest. He was calling to her and she called back. He saw her with outstretched arms and he was running to them. Then the arrows of his father's hunters started to fly towards him. He dodged and hit them away, miraculously survivng the gauntlet. But when he arrived it was too late. Something or someone with clawed hands had dragged her away. He never got to her in time.

Lotor knew the dream was nothing close to the reality of that evening. It was she who had protected him from the hunters' arrows, huddling over his body and telling him to stay down. He heard his father's voice call them to stop, thinking that this madness was finally over. His mother was moaning. In horror, he thought that the hunters had gotten him, he was covereed in blood though he felt no pain. It was not his blood but his mother's that was flowing freely over him. He knew she was dying, it was instictive. He felt her heartbeat slowing much like an animal's when the kill had almost been completed. Zarkon, lifting her up, must have known it too. In one hand he held her, and in another, he had lifted his son. Lotor was not good at placing emotions yet, and the one his father was feeling was overwhelming. It scared Lotor and he shut down any place it tried to go, until it found a place he could not access. In a moment of self-preservation, he locked it away vowing to never let it out. It left a strange trail of bliss and rage, and oddly enough, he wanted to taste more of it. He felt his father hand him off to one of his men. Lotor was screaming, begging to go back to his mother. The man clamped his hand down on his mouth. He heard a snap of a neck, a sound any child who had hunted extensively knew well and what it meant. He remembered passing the witch, she had been smiling and he swore he heard her laugh. Althea was dead.

The next two weeks were a blur. His father had gone mad. On the first night, he had stationed himself outside his son's door and was banging his fist on it, demanding Lotor show himself. Again and again, he blamed the boy for his mother's death. Looking back, something must have held the Great King back. He had easily seen him, in more calm moments, break down his mother's door. His was no thicker or larger. He could have killed him in the forest; but in a moment of clarity he had handed him off to the soldier who had practically run away with him. They had never talked about those days, and they never would. What galled Lotor the most about the days that followed was that he had been totally abandoned. Not a single memeber of the court, including all of his father's supposedly brave warmasters, had come by to rescue or even check on him.

No one even tried to ring his rooms. He learned his first lesson about being a royal, trust no one. His father's warmasters were probably looking at this as a promotion opportunity, each calculating the possibility of taking over the Ninth Kingdom if the king was going to kill off his only son, and then, eithr do himself in or be removed. An empty crown would be waiting for one of them to pluck, since Leanarra's intended, the gentle King Dharlock, did not have the balls to grab the throne.

Lotor had tried to deal with it by barricading himself behind the door. Hour after hour, he braced himself as the door reverberated with his father's blows. On the third day, the banging stopped. Lotor no longer heard the racing heartbeat, or the wails of despair, on the other side. He was starving, and his need for food overrode his good sense. He snuck out of his room, desperate for something to slack his need. It was then that he realized that the kitchen staff, along with the rest of the Castle had fled. He honestly did not blame them, the smell of rotting corpses permeated the halls. He was surprised at the uniforms of the dead, he had expected more out of his father's vaunted royal guard. His father had cut down everyone in his path, and anyone, who had tried to stop him. Lotor had already assumed that the feeling his father had forced on him was the bloodlust, something he was glad his mind could not process.

He eventually found his way to Borak's home. It was an hour by foot. Filthy, hungry and dirty, Borak's servants took him in. Borak's wife, in horror, admonished her husband for not taking the child with him. Borak sheepishly explained that the Great King was outside the child's door and no one could get near Lotor; the few that tried now lay dead in the halls. Lotor, after seeing the carnage outside his rooms, had to agree that Borak had taken the logical course of action.

Borak's wife, Driedal, scrubbed him clean in the tub. She was careful not to touch his hair. It was still matted with his mother's blood. She heard him ask Borak if she could. He emphatically said no. The boy, he said, would have to learn to care for it himself. Lotor reached for the shampoo and mixed it into his hair. Rinsing it out, he watched the water turned pink as the dried blood dissolved into the water. He watched solemnly as the last remains of his mother trickled down the drain. He got out and dried himself with a towel and reached for the fresh clothes. His long hair was a tangle of knots. Driedal had left him a large tooth combed, a conditioner of some sort, and a hairbrush. She, at least, had a plan.

He found Borak, and his wife, in the room outside. The couple were fighting about what they were going to do with him. Borak was scared someone would come to their home to kill him, and perhaps, their entire family. Borak had been terrified that the Crown was up for grabs, and he, for one, was going to stay out of it. Lotor would have to leave. Luckily, his wife was made of stronger stuff and insisted the child was staying.

Lotor looked at the fighting couple, then he looked at the hairbrush and the comb he had in his hand. The couple suddenly realized that they were not alone. A single tear slid down his cheek.

"Althea would know how to fix this, but I am finding it impossible." He said, pointing to unrecognizable mess that had once been his crowning glory.

"I cannot. It is against the Law." Borak softly said.

"I give you permission." Still the man did not budge. "I offer submission." He practically growled. Still there was no movement by his father's most trusted advisor. "You have permission to touch my hair." A strong, but frustrated voice emerged from the child. "Borak, father always says it is your job to fix the impossible." Lotor brought a chair with him and placed it in front of the magistrate. He calmly sat down and handed him the comb and the brush. "You are sworn to the throne of Korrinoth. As far as I know, until my father comes back to his senses, it is in front of you." Lotor was glad his face was turned away from the man another tear rolled down his cheek. He was aware of the man's true nature and did not want him to be weak tonight. Today, he needed a magistrate, not a coward.

A week later Borak and Lotor returned back to the castle. Sanity, if not normalcy, had returned to his father. Borak watched both of them, with those identical eyes, try to stare each other down. Both blamed the other for what had happened, though Lotor did not understand what part he had played in it all. Althea told him to come, and he had followed. The only thing Lotor understood was that his mother was dead and that his father had killed her. It would always be there between them, a wall that neither time or space would ever breach.


	7. Chapter 7

The Feast of Lerasa

Lotor awoke to the cool morning air that came rushing into his room with every gust of wind. It was one of those rare days on Korrinoth where the skies did not weep. Lotor looked forward to the hunt and went to his closet looking for his hunter's cloak and boots. A part of him was excited that the boots were too tight. He called a steward to bring him a larger size. Lotor was not hoping for a miracle, he knew he would always be on the short side for a Korronite, but this gave him some hope that he could at least reach a respectable height.

He went into the next room. He found his bow, which had already been thoughtfully restrung by one of the servants. The hunters and their attendants would be carrying plenty of arrows so he left his quiver in the closet. Instead, he secured a lazon sword as was his custom at school. It was part of his cadet's uniform and he felt naked without its weight against his hip. No one would think much of it, every one of his father's warmasters would also have one attached to his body.

He quickly swallowed down breakfast. He was early for the hunt but he liked watching the attendants get everything ready. A handler was getting the ghoul dogs revved up by placing blood soaked towels in front of their noses. Another handler was getting a Toyer, a large green elephant like beast, ready if the king if he decided to go for larger prey. In the distance he saw a group of fire starters readying themselves if his father decided that the forest needed to be smoked out, something he rarely did. His father, though barbaric at times, was not one to destroy a perfectly good hunting ground to take down an elusive prey.

This was the first year, since his mother's death, that Lotor had been home for this festival. In fact, he had never re-entered his father's private hunting grounds since that day, carefully skirting around it when he was home. He started to back away. He had felt a strong foreboding and had already decided he would make excuses when he felt a hand fall on his shoulder.

"Do you remember when you used to ride with me on Kitir?" He pointed up to the large beast which was gorging itself on vegetation. There was a smile on his face.

"Borak tells me that you like to hunt." Lotor nodded, his anxiety building as they stepped to the edge of the forest. "I am taking my personal hunters today, so there will be plenty of food at the feast tonight. We only have three standard units, if the cooks are going to start on time. Let's move out." Zarkon gave Lotor a light push. Lotor turned around to face his father's hunters. He had not seen these faces in four years. These were the men who had killed his mother.

Lotor knew his father's forests well, he had spent the first six years of his life under the storied trees. He knew the sound that each animal made and where their dens were. He knew where the black watered streams trickled through the equally black hills and thorny glens. He knew where to hide in order to kill something. He had a very different prey in mind today than what the others hunted. In all the confusion, his father had failed to notice the boy slip away.

Lotor, with a litheness born of youth, scaled the heavily branched brishner tree, hiding behind its lush, grey pigmented leaves. His heart was beating as the other hunters separated from the pack. He was not sure but he thought he heard his father's guards calling his name, He did not care what punishment awaited him. The taste of vengeance, mingled with rage, created a confection of utter delight for his soul to bask in. It crushed any fear he had as the first hunter came by. The man turned at the sound of the arrow's whoosh. It had taken years of practice to achieve this level of skill, something Lotor was glad he had invested in when the projectile rang true and hit his target squarely through the throat. Lotor scrambled down to watch the last of the man's life ebb from him. He sensed that the man was filled with confusion, not even realizing what had happened to him. Lotor was saddened by this as he wanted him to know who had stolen his life away.

Lotor dragged the body off into a wooded area. If it was not found soon it would become a feast for the scavengers. Lotor already imagined Korrinoth's huge vultures picking at the flesh, as they did his mother's body as it lay decomposing in the Pit of Skulls. The hunter's death had been quick and merciful, without the fear that attended hers.

The next hunter he found hiding behind a rock where the main stream curved north. It was far less elegant. He snuck up behind him and struck him with his sword. The man, though incapacitated, was not quite dead. He dragged him over to the stream and drowned what small life remained in him. Again, he was angered that his victim had not seen his face. He was a heavy set man and it took Lotor a good twenty minutes to drag his body to a place where it was easily concealed.

Lotor was sloppy with the third victim. Though injured, the man was only crippled by the arrow. Whether a wind caught it, or his aim slipped, he did not know. The arrow ended up in the man's thigh. He did not relish chasing him down with his sword, or the knife wound he took in his arm as the man tried to vainly fight him off. Eventually, his sword sliced the man's head off but it had been more of a struggle than he had anticipated. He was dripping in both sweat and blood. At least, he thought, one of them saw my face and tasted my vengeance as he tore off a piece of his shirt to tie a tourniquet around his wound. He was in pain as he dragged off the last body, and each wave that crashed through his limbs was most satisfying. He would have killed again had he not heard the horns the sounded the end of the hunt. He would have liked more men to feel his wrath, but he was satisfied with what he had accomplished.

This particular Feast of Lerasa would go down in the history of the court as its bloodiest. By the end of the day, three hunters lay dead and not a large predator to show for it. Lotor had returned to his father's castle on his own. He found a med kit and put on a pressure bandage, showered, and put on a fresh set of clothes after disposing of the rest of his outfit. He turned it into kindling for his fireplace. The housekeeper thought it odd he had started up a fire in his room so early in the day but she was not one to question a prince. He made a scene with the stewards claiming nothing fit and demanded that he be remeasured for all of his clothing.

It was days before all the bodies were found, the bones were picked clean. Lotor had not been fool enough to leave the arrows in his victims. They had been carefully dug out with his hunting knife and buried elsewhere in the deep earth or flung into the fast moving stream. Still, with no proof of his crime, his father's fists came down on him. His father did not believe the tale that he had simply gotten lost in the woods, he knew his son's sense of direction was far too honed for that. He had remembered being met by the freshly scrubbed boy when the hunting party had emerged from the wood. Zarkon was no fool. He knew that those men did not simpky just disappear. They were all masters of their trade. Zarkon questioned the boy who lied like a pro. What disturbed the king more than the murders was that when he looked for a reaction from the boy, he came up empty. There was no elation or fear. He sensed nothing. He did not know how, but the boy had somehow learned to hide his feelings from the Great King. Charak had promised he would teach his son to kill a man and think nothing of it, he was alarmed that it had come to pass so quickly.

Lotor was sent on the next quick transport back to Neraku. He had made it five days before he was banished again. Borak had arranged for him to spend the rest of Neraku's lovely summer at a beach resort, He spent his days running through the copper colored dunes, his feet turning leathery from the heated sands. His skin was now the color of the peasant famers. Darkened by the sun, it was a deep purple. His hair, once a brilliant white, had turned a brown, rusty color dyed from the iron flecks in the water. He grew tall that summer, and though he would never reach the height of a real Korronite, he was almost standing six measures making him appear even skinnier than before. He was approaching his thirteenth year and dreaded his return to school. He had been free for the first time in his life and it had been absolutely wonderful.

It was in that little seaside room that he blew out the one candle that adorned the ill baked cake. His wish was a simple one – that he would return to Arus again. For a moment, he closed his eyes and dreamed of a life where he would be left alone. He blew out the candle and placed the cake into the garbage. He would never develop a taste for such a thing. He pulled out his bags and began to pack. It was time to head back to the Academy. At least, he thought, Skath would be gone. This year, his nemesis was old enough for the bungalows.

His father did not see him again until he was almost sixteen. Every year the ship would come at break, and every year he refused to board. He would spend the summers booking a room at the same resort, enjoying the beaches and talking to the scantily clad females – even stealing a kiss or two. Only Skath questioned where the poor scholarship boy came up with the funds for such a lavish summer. Eventually, a transport came with a royal summons and some rough looking guards to enforce it, causing a few more questions that came without answers. If his fellow classmates wondered why he had secluded himself, they did not ask. The strange cadet from Korronite had few friends and they knew that he never talked much about Korrinoth or his family, but then again, warmasters rarely talked about anything at all.


	8. Chapter 8

Fifth Year - Break

Lotor's return to Korrinoth began as it had last ended, with his father beating him into an unconscious state. He had expected it. He had ignored ever communication attempt that Borak had made since his last departure. Lotor was amazed that his father had kept paying his allowance and his tuition all these years, but perhaps Zarkon realized that they both needed a break. Lotor's grades had been good, there were no complaints from his instructors, and no one but Zarkon put together what had happened to the hunters that day. No one believed that little Lotor, the half human hybrid, could have taken down three professional hunters so cleanly. In the end, everyone attributed their death to some wild beast gone amuck that day.

The beatings were for his insolence. Truthfully, he would not have returned on the transport without a royal summons. He still remembered Yorak, who had replaced Skath as the barrack's leader, unfurl it in front of him. Since he could not read Korronite, he had to ask one of the more learned cadets to do so – a move that not only annoyed Lotor but his father's guards who were getting impatient with the fool of a cadet. Of course, Yorak had called Skath over to watch the proceedings.

"What could the Great King of the Ninth Kingdom want with you?" Skath asked arrogantly. "Is he tired of his good money being wasted on a beach bum? " Skath pointed to the already darkened hair. Lotor, used to a much cooler clime than the rest of them, had taken to swimming in Neraku's oceans far earlier than most.

"At least my king summons me? I do not see your father begging for your sorry ass to come home. The Imperial Adjunct was here weeks ago, I did not see you leave with the Emperor's men. Do you fear what lies beyond the safe borders of your father's realm?" Lotor threw back.

"I made First Pilot. It is my right to command the team this year." Skath answered indignantly. Lotor was happy that he found a soft spot to hurl his insults at.

"You are a coward." Lotor replied.

The boy's taunts quickly turned to fists. Lotor was not so small anymore and could easily take and land blows on the slightly older cadet. Both were bleeding and bruised when the Korronite guards pulled them apart. The massive men separated the two boys whose ears were ringing with the guards' laughter. It was then that Skath motioned Yorak over.

"Look at him Yorak. Such a peasant, to think I once harbored thoughts that you were of a high birth. But like all Korrinites, your baseness always comes through in the end. Yorak, you know the old saying – when one's fists cannot do the job..."

"Call in bigger fists." Yorak lunged for Lotor, At that, the guards let Lotor go and cheered him on as he finally took the aspiring warmaster down. Yorak, for once, was in a crumpled heap on the floor. Lotor spat blood on him as the guards slapped him on the back.

"My Korrinoth blood begs to differ with your appraisal Skath, perhaps you would like to settle this in the Arena – like gentlemen would." Lotor offered.

"It would be unfair of me to take advantage of such a weak swordsman as even Charak will not let you train with the others." Skath said with a bow. "A good prince knows when to show mercy."

"You are right. We should drop the issue for now." Lotor said with a smirk.

If Lotor knew what awaited for him back home, he may have worked extra hard at avoiding his father's men. After his father finished with him, he threw him into his dungeons. For the first week, he remained shackled tot he walls. The only visitor brave enough to come was Haggar. He had not seen her since she arrived to pick him up on Arus. The beautiful woman he remembered was now a shriveled old one, horrid to the eyes. Still, he was desperate for company. She sat with him for hours as they worked on what little ability he had inherited from his Wyvern ancestors.

She taught him a simple healing spell, but he was incapable of learning any spells to block the cramping pains that had settled into his arms and legs. The witch had come to see him after his father's men came with a lazon whip. The witch sealed the wounds from infection but she did nothing to staunch the pain from the energy burns. She admonished him for his failure to take away his pain, claiming that he yearned for it. It was true, he normally accepted pain with some eagerness. With pain came rage, and with rage came power. The power he felt was divine. It was best though, when it was combined with holding his sword. He felt that he could slay an entire army if he had to. Nothing in the world could stop him when this feeling came over him. Once or twice he had summoned it at will. Pain, unfortunately, was the key to bringing it forward and mastering it. This time, however, he felt exhausted and struggled to maintain his consciousness.

His father could have easily learned these spells, as his magic was much stronger. Yet, he refused to learn them. He claimed broken men would have begged him to take away their pain on the battlefield. _One does not have time to stop for luxuries when facing the enemy_, he would remind the boy when he was at court.

This dungeon was playing games with his head. He had even started to look back at those days in his father's court with some fondness as he whiled away the hours. He was grateful that he had the ability to recall his memories so clearly. The witch had shown them how to store them so that they could be relived in the moment. He missed his father's warmasters hoisting him up on their shoulders before they got to drunk to stand and their moods turned sour. They would clap to his father's witticisms and pronouncements giving them great weight. As a small child he loved to hear his father's voice discharging power and fear to all those around him. His servants responding to that terrifying voice by doing everything possible to fulfill his every wish.

As long as Zarkon's words were not directed at him, he was amused by the chaos ensuing below his dais. Now, with nothing but agony to keep him company, he had wished he spent more time with the witch when he was a child and less listening to his father's rubbish. For some reason, she adored him and had always found time for her little prince. Her labs and her robeast pens were his playground. He probably had as much affection for those disgusting beasts as she did.

He still was part Wyvern and he had other abilities to help him through this. He looked for a memory to distract him. For a moment, he was on Arus splashing in a cold waterfall. The pain melted away as his mind convinced him that the cold water was running down his back. He played that memory over and over again. He saw Allura's face. He saw her thick lashes clumped together around those cerulean eyes as she came up from under the water. She had a smile on her face as she called to him. He heard her voice again, light and sweet like a misplaced melody. _Did you see my dive, Lotor. Just the way you taught me._ He felt his hair floating around him. He searched for that exquisite feeling of pure joy that she had given him. He would die happy for that one thing. It was his, stolen from the long dead girl, and he basked in it. He wondered if he would find her on the other side. Would she be waiting for him in the Dream Realm. Would she remember her sad prince who had promised to make her his queen. They would finally have their kingdom. They could be the Prince and the Princess of the Dead, surrounded by all the souls that his father had wiped out of existence. What would she think of him when she knew that he had added some to that seemingly endless list of the unfortunates?

"His fever is still higher than I would like it to be." Lotor heard a familiar voice from his past. He was no longer on a cold stone floor but in a soft bed.

"Is he going to pull through?" Another concerned voice chimed in. He smiled well knowing that the smooth baritone belonged to Borak.

"I think so. Zarkon always pushes the limit with this boy. I swear he wants the boy dead." Nerok flashed the bright light into his eyes, causing Lotor to moan.

"At least he is responsive. That is better than he was yesterday. I was sure we were going to lose him. Such a pity that those two cannot get along." Nerok clucked to Borak.

"Do not look at me, they are both beyond my skills. The gods themselves cannot bring them together in peace." Borak pushed Lotor's hair behind his ear.

"After al these years, you still cannot resist touching him. You are such a sentimental fool." Nerok gently chided him.

"Call me when he is coherent. I have papers for him to sign." Borak sighed. "Another war is about to begin."

"Now what?" Nerok called out to the departing Borak. "Nothing much. Zarkon just wants all of his interests protected. Our boy hits the age of majority soon."

"Good. Some other fool doctor can now patch him up. The sooner I am off Zarkon's radar the better" Nerok shouted back.

Two days later, Lotor awoke. He had not dreamed of the voices. Nerok was standing over him.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Nerok greeted him with a smile.

"Dead was good enough, at least my back did not ache." Lotor realized he was lying on his stomach, not his preferred sleep position.

"The healer did a beautiful job, there will not be any scars." Nerok answered hopefully.

"My dear physician, a lazon whip always leaves scars even if one cannot see them, one always feels them. Believe a veteran of the lash when he tells you. I believe you are supposed to summon Borak now." Lotor tried to turn over but soon gave up as Nerok threatened to knock him out again.

"The King wants you up soon. He thinks it is time you went out on your first campaign. I think it is too early, but I am not one to fight with your father." Nerok bristled.

An hour later, Borak entered the room. Lotor signed the papers without even looking. Borak raised an eyebrow,

"I know what you are thinking, old friend. All those years of magistrate school gone to waste. What rights am I signing away this time?" Lotor said with resignation in his voice.

"You are about to come into your majority, cadets do stupid things during their last year at their respective academies? " Borak quietly said.

"Such as..." Lotor asked inquisitively.

"Get married, so that that they are are not separated from their lovers by their respective kingdoms." Borak offered.

"Father is retaining his rights to pick my bride. Smart move on his part I am a valuable commodity now that I am of age." Lotor gave a weak smile.

"He as planned quite the party for you next month." Borak added hopeful it would lift the boy's spirits up.

"Of course he has. I am a living miracle. Only the gods could have predicted my survival." Lotor murmured as he fell off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Sixth Year

_First Day_

"It is highly irregular." The Commandant said as he looked over the request.

"Has anything about this particular cadet been regular. The other students think he is a spy from the Imperial Adjunct's Office." Mogor let out a good laugh. "He is too young to train with the elite squad yet. They will not take him until the last quarter of his seventeenth year, but he has completed all his coursework. Give him to me. Sir, it is a little thing I ask. I rarely get a Korronite as a student." Mogor pointed out that the boy had completed his entire pre-flight school requirement on the simulator so graciously donated by the Korronite King for the exclusive use of the Korronite students. At first, the Commandant had been thrilled to accept the gift. It had been a spectacular gesture given by a king known for his generosity, until he noticed that there was only one student from Korrinoth who even had any interest in trying it out. It was an odd gift given by an odd king.

"That is because Korronites make terrible pilots. May I remind you that your horrendous flying is what landed you here." Mogor bristled under his skin. The veiled and not so hidden insults to his people were always present. The Commandant never missed an opportunity to remind him of the unfortunate incident that was caused by a mechanical error. Had it not been ruled as such, Mogor would have been dead rather than being placed in this virtual exile. He longed to return home. He realized part of it was jealousy due to Korrinoth's wealth, but most of it was the perception that they were a race of backwater Drules who just happened to be sitting on gigantic lazon deposits. The Korronites rarely came to Neraku preferring their own academies. Mogor would not even be here but he was out of favor at court. Cadet Carris, he soon realized, was his ticket back home.

He tracked down Lotor in the student mess and motioned him over.

"My Prince, you are on the tactical strike team." Lotor told him to lower his voice. He could see the man was beaming. Two years ago the captain did a double take when he saw the gangly teenager staring at the ships on the landing bay. It was the brilliant white hair, blowing in all directions that had caught his attention. He walked over to the cadet, ready to berate him for being so close to the training ships. He approached the boy who gave the name of Carris, a name few outside of Korrinoth would know. This only fueled his suspicion. Mogor looked into those shining yellow eyes, their pupils nothing more than a vertical slit in the midmorning sun, and smiled. No one could take them for anything less than they were, the eyes of the Demon King. It did not take a genius to understand that fate had delivered a golden opportunity to him. He could be stuck for the next twenty years stuck in rank wiping the noses of the rich, spoiled noblemen's children that comprised the majority of the students in the pilot's program, or, he could attach himself to the young man who could put in a good word with his king. The idea of moving back to Korrnoth as a captain with a marred record did not appeal to him, but as a commander – with access to senior officer's privileges – that was another story.

"Cadet, why are you here?" Mogor barked at the young man.

"Sir, I want to fly." The youth answered back.

"It is too late. Your year is too far into the program. You will never catch up. You would have to spend hours in a flight trainer and I do not have the resources." Mogor growled back.

"If the resources were found, I could provide the time." The cadet confidently answered back. Three months later the most advanced flight simulator available was shipped to Neraku, a gift from King Zarkon. The Commandant thought it strange, after all, he only possessed a handful of students from that dark world, but he was not to reject such a gift – regardless of the conditions attached. In five months, Lotor had qualified in order to move to the next level, flying an attack ship.

"Mogor, you have served me well." Lotor whispered back. "I will not forget this." Mogor had a strange feeling that he was no longer in charge. Lotor's only complaint was that Skath was still around. Mogor told him there was nothing he could do about it. He had been the best pilot last year and had the right to stay an extra year to command this year's Academy Team for the various competitions. Lotor mumbled it was just a way to shorten Skath's time with Supremacy's Advance Guard, a cowardly move. Mogor laughed. He knew Skath would never serve in the guard, few crown princes did. He was even surprised that Lotor took it as a given, most of them by his year had already been told how they were going to avoid the dangerous, and often unpleasant service. Besides glory, the Guard offered little in return. In fact, it was viewed as a hindrance since the Drule Supremacy could just as easily call up a Guardsman for a military action as one's homeworld.

Lotor's class schedules had always been odd. He had raced through the engineering and math courses. He had quickly finished the science curriculum. For the most part, he had been shoved in with classmates that had several years on him. It did not lend itself to making friends as they hung out with their peers in barracks based on years. The arts were a bit slower. Even if he finished early, there was always another book to read or another interpretation to critique. It took him years to realize why he had,if not a hatred for those areas, than at least a strong dislike of literature, history, philosophy and most other social sciences. He placed well on the exams but his lack of interest had definitely lowered his class academic rankings. These subjects never seemed to have a beginning and an end. He was, deep down, an orderly person. Everything needed to be in place so he could see the big picture. As long as he could keep his life compartmentalized – the Academy, Korrinoth, and even his obsession with a little world called Arus, then he could muddle through the long days.

Lotor was not expecting what happened next. There was no safe place to shove the beautiful, tall brunette that entered the lecture hall. It was the first day of class when he saw her. He had his head buried deep in the flight manual, which he had already memorized back to front. At first, he did not see her. He caught a whiff of her perfume. He knew the scent. It was called lavender and he had run through fields of the flowering plant seven summers back. He could not help but raise his head to locate the delicious scent that followed the girl with the sashaying hips. He had not even seen her face, as that view had already passed, so instead he stared intently at her firm bottom which caused another student to give him a nudge.

'Give it up, Carris. She is out of your league. She is a Countess from the Second Kingdom. What do have to offer? That girl is not going to be some concubine in a second rate harem on a backwater world." Carris looked at his classmate and shrugged, desperately trying to ignore the slight pressure in his pants. He sighed. His father had been right. It was time to take a trip to Tyrus on his next leave home. His father had even offered to go with him. Lotor had laughed when Zarkon had suggested it last time, more out of nervousness than anything else. His father seemed a bit crestfallen and the festive mood of the moment quickly passed. Instead, his father taught him how to kill a robeast in the Arena. Lotor regretted not going. Hormones aside, he realized that chasing women and killing robeasts were what Zarkon considered to be father and son moments.

He had just spent the summer at home. His father had sent another warship to pick up all the cadets from Korrinoth in order to keep up the charade at school. At home, any pretense that the Crown Prince was in some sort of coma or was crippled had long faded away. Lotor, was supposedly at some not too rigorous military academy due to his inferior genetics or his injuries. The press, and the people bought it. There was some debate, from time to time, whether his father would replace him with one of his nephews. The court sneered at him until he took one of his warmaster's into the Arena. Let the press say what it would, but those close to the court knew otherwise. If the public drumming afforded his son some anonymity at Neraku then Zarkon felt it was worth it. He did not want his son hanging out with the decadent children of the other noble houses, he wanted him to learn how to run an Empire.

His father had just thrown him a spectacular birthday for his seventeenth year. Say what he wanted about his father, but Zarkon knew how to throw his son a party.. His mother, when she was alive, had insisted on a strange birthday tradition for him. The only time he would see her go into the Castle's kitchens was to bake the cakes that she would make for him and Leanarra on their birthdays. , Mostly she claimed to resort to this because the cooks would not know how to make a cake. Lotor had no doubt that this was true, no one ate cake on Korrinoth. She would take all sorts of things he had never seen or tasted before and mix them up in a bowl. She would then make this thing called icing and smooth it along the surface of this creation. Finally, she would place candles upon it. She would sing a silly song and tell him to make a wish. That would lead to another game, where she would then spend the next couple of days trying to get him to reveal it, though she told him if he told her it would not come true. She would proudly cut him a piece of this horrible tasting concoction which she and Leanarra seemed to enjoy immensely. Every year, with a hopeful look, she would try to entice him. It was a silly thing, but when he got older he would always order a cook, usually with the aide of a human slave, to make him a birthday cake. It did not have to taste good. It just had to look the part. Usually alone, he would just blow out the candles and make the stupid wish, sad that no one was there to try to pry the thought from him. He knew it would have made Althea happy knowing that her little tradition had survived and that, after all this time, he could still wish for something over those spindly, tiny candles.

This year's was an utter disaster. His father had expected him to partake in the more decadent aspects of their culture. Lotor, not liking the taste of alcohol, did not get the slightest bit drunk much to his father's annoyance. On top of that, his father was hoping he would join in the more obvious debaucheries that were playing out all around but Lotor could not bring himself to it. He had known the older pleasure slaves since he was a child, they had pinched his cheeks and patted his rear. He had occasionally sat and snacked with them and their children, many of them hybrids like himself. He used to look at them and think, but for a twist of fate, that he could have easily been one of them. He wondered how many of them had been fathered by visiting dignitaries, high ranking nobles or other warmasters. The more beautiful ones, both girls and boys, were not forced to work as house slaves or go to the lazon mines. In several years, they would just replace their mothers who were more likely than not, when their beauty faded, sent to the mines or to a much less picky nobleman's house. And as far as the younger ones went, Lotor just did not want to get involved with these girls, many whom he had known since he was a child or had been passed around by his father's warmasters Tired of the boy's excuses, he figured he would take him to Tyrus where he could purchase a night with a virgin or a top end consort. Lotor convinced him it was time he had killed a robeast. It was a lot less terrifying than being with a woman, and his father's guests loved the spectacle. His father was momentarily distracted by his son's prowess in the Arena, amazed at how far he had come.

The summer had by far been his best, save for his time in the dungeon. He and his father had not quarreled that much. The subject of Arus, though heavy on Lotor's mind, was not brought up. He was careful to excuse himself from the hunt, wary that other hunters might want to finish off what he had started. He spent most of the summer attaching himself to Yurak who would occasionally take him on a short campaign to put down an insurrection or take over a small planet.

And as for his classmate's remarks, he cared not. In a few years, he could have any woman he wanted . He had not even seen the girl's face. She could have been better going than coming. His curiosity was enough to make him wait in his seat until she left the class. She was absolutely stunning. Her long mahogany hair and shapely rear had already given him something to fuel his fantasies, but he had not expected the large green eyes and lush lips. She caught his stare and smiled back at him, and even pointed him out to a friend. He tried to sit up taller. He was a respectable height, small for a Korronite but now as tall as an average Drule. His body was still a bit scrawny but the musculature would hopefully come soon. Nerok had assured him that he still had a lot of growing to do. He was surprised when she walked over to him.

"You are Cadet Carris, are you not?" He wordlessly nodded in the affirmative.

"You are the little math genius, right?" Lotor again nodded. His stomach was too twisted to say anything.

"I'm Cadet Katte, Countess of Ferok." She stood over Lotor. In general, it was considered bad form at the Academy to use titles, but much of the upper class nobility found it a hard habit to break.

"My Lady, It is a pleasure to meet you." Lotor got up and bowed, digging deep down and finding sanctuary in his protocol training.

"If I do not pass Integrated 3 they will fail me out, I need a tutor. I pay well." It was the last three words that brought the smirk out. Lotor was not exactly lacking in funds, it was just that he really could not spend them on Neraku.

"How does twenty credits a unit sound?" Her green eyes were glittering.

"More than generous." Lotor reached down to pick up his books. He noticed her friend was giving him the once over.

"I am in Bungalow 17. Be there at 7. I assume you know where that part of the complex is?" He heard the slight derision in her voice. It was where the royals and guildsmen spent their final years, luxuriating in lavish cottages while the rest of them stayed in the concrete barracks with little heat and no privacy. He had never entered the gates, having no reason to, but of course, he knew where they were.

He watched the girls walk away. They were laughing. Being mostly descended from modern Drules they had small, rounded ears. They forgot how sensitive his were. He only had to trail behind them at a respectful distance to listen in.

"Do you think he is a human hybrid, he is so small for a Korronite?" Katte whispered to her friend.

"Maybe, there is so much gossip going on about him but no one knows. He keeps to himself. Supposedly he has already completed the warmaster program, but honestly he looks more like a pleasure slave. " Her friend whispered back. "Perhaps you should try him out."

"Shara, _recreation_ is the last thing I need. I need to focus. My father will be furious if I do not come back with at least a piloting degree." Katte murmured.

"Why, he is just going to marry you off anyway. Who knows, I may be in the presence of the future Queen of the Seccond Kingdom?" Her friend made a deep bow, usually reserved for greeting royalty. "I see the way the prince looks at you." Shara gave her friend a slight push.

"The degree makes me more marketable. It makes you look as if you can produce a Drule heir with military potential. Maybe even a warmaster." Katte said as she looked behind her and saw Lotor at a respectable distance. She did not think much of it because they all had their next class together.

"Is that all the nobility ever thinks about, making one of those animals? My father has told me what they are capable of. Something he hopes I never see. Father tells me it is best not to get involved with one." Lotor heard the word and winced.

"Those animals, as you call them, are essential to expanding and protecting any noble's family territory. It is much better to have one in your immediate family as they are incredibly expensive to keep. My father can only afford the handful in his court. The cost of their harems alone would shock you. Too bad Skath is not one, I could be the wife of a warrior-king. It is hard to believe that Carris is one. He does not look like he can hurt a bug." Katte answered back.

"You would be surprised. There are some scrawny ones out there, even some women I hear. Maybe that is it. He is really a girl." At that, both girls started to giggle loudly. Lotor blushed with shame.

"I do not need to know anything more about him than whether or not he can teach me how to balance a fuel equation after coming out of warp." Katte shot back.

"A warmaster at one's disposal and that is all you can think off? My, my...I am so glad that I was raised a lowly flight officer's daughter. I can think of five things right off the back I would like to do with that yummy little snack." The girls burst out in laughter. Had they turned around they would have caught Lotor sporting a deep purple blush. Here he was, a future warmaster, the terror of the galaxy, and these two girls had him totally flustered.

"Sharra, you are unbelievable. You just called him an animal and now you joke to take him for _recreation_." Katte looked back at the young man, hoping he had not heard their conversations.

"My mother was gifted to my father by a warmaster who had sampled her first. She highly recommends the experience before I settled down. Animal or not, they are renowned for their stamina. All that training seems to pay off. Tell me, how many are going to be as lovely as your little math freak?" Sharra giggled back. "If you do not want that pretty piece of ass, than I am going for it."

Lotor was glad that the girls were far enough ahead of him. He was absolutely mortified that the two girls could be talking this way. It was both embarrassing and amusing at the same time. A bolder teen would have jumped on the opportunity. Though Katte was prettier, Sharra had the better body. It shamed him to be objectifying the girls, they too would be officers one day if they chose to be. He took a deep breath, he would have discipline. He would not just be a clever animal when he was around them.

Captain Mogor taught the next class. Lotor, forgetting about the girls, as he filled his pad with note after note about tactical flight formations. He saw Skath in the front row sitting next to Katte, trying to look like he cared. This was the last piloting class of the day. Most of the students would now break off to take classes in the other academic areas that were required to graduate. Every other student in the room had spent hours in the flight simulators. He had to make the hours in the next couple of months before they would ever let him touch a flyer. He did not care whether he earned a certificate or not, but he wanted to learn how to fly. Luckily, his days, after his morning classes were free save for a language or history class a couple of times a week or Charak occasionally summoning him to the Arena. Like all of the other students, he still had his daily morning exercises and meditation, but there was little else to do but practice his flying. Mogor motioned him down after class. Skath was going to supervise his first session of the year.

Lotor had not seen Skath in some time. For two years he was in charge of their barracks, and then, when he was eligible for the bungalows he left them behind in Yorak's not so capable hands. Lotor was more than happy to say goodbye to Skath. He had spent the last two years trying to find out who Lotor was. Lotor was tired of coming back to the barracks only to find out that Skath had rummaged through his belongings claiming that they were not stowed in regulation style. He had found evidence of sloppy tampering on his pads. Lotor did his best to keep out of Prince Skath's way, it was the prince who kept finding himself mysteriously in Lotor's path.

"Cadet Carris, you never cease to amaze me. You did quite a number on Yorak." Lotor knew the fist was coming and clenched his stomach in anticipation. The blow was not so much. Skath was not a warmaster and he lacked either the skill or the brute strength to inflict any real damage. Lotor needed no special abilities to be able to tell how frustrated Skath was with the situation. He pointed to the flight simulator and told Lotor to get in. Skath went into the control booth and threw every scenario at the confident cadet, it took two hours to crash him. Lotor emerged with a smug look on his face, knowing Mogor would be pleased with the results. Mogor had asked him to come back at 10, promising him some more hours

Lotor made his way to the commissary. He grabbed a huge hunk of meat and some sort of protein drink. The writing on the package promised to bulk of his well defined, but pitifully small looking muscles. He sat down and attacked his overcooked piece of meat and looked around the almost empty eatery. In one corner were some staff wives and their babies and in the other were two young officers debating whether or not his father should make an alliance with the King of Demos, his only real competition in the quadrant. Lotor was very much against any alliance. The last alliance his father made was with the Tenth Kingdom with Leanarra being the prize that sealed the deal. As far as he could tell, a Crown Prince was probably an even more tempting bauble to dangle in front of another monarch.

He eventually finished and made his way over to the babies. He recognized his physics teacher's wife from a holiday party. He asked to pick up her rambunctious toddler who played with his ears. He mused that Leanarra had just given birth to another boy, her husband had a knack at keeping her with child. Lotor had not met the latest in her growing brood, but he was probably about this age. He wondered how Dharlock would divide his kingdom to accommodate the four boys, Lotor well knowing that there was a fair chance that one of them would emerge with a warmaster's temperament and it would not be the twins, who had just both been named Crown Prince, something they had both readily agreed to. His father had totally disagreed with Dharlock on that point, a divided kingdom served none of them. Lotor was sure that one of the others would take those gentle boys down if they were not very careful. If they had been his brothers he would have shown no hesitation. Even now, he was not happy with their very existence.

His nephews aside, Lotor generally adored small children. They had not learned to question his odd looks. The small boy reached for Lotor's long braid. His mother's eyes nervously watched as Lotor gingerly removed his hair from the child's hand and cooed a gentle reprimand. The boy turned to the shiny gold buttons on Lotor's uniform, trying to pull them off, as Lotor gave a soft, playful growl which elicited squeals of delight from the youngster. Lotor finished by flying the tot around and then he handed him back to his mother. The child protested, begging for more of the teenager's attention.

"Cadet, you have a good manner with children." The mother said as she tried desperately to tie the boy back into his stroller. Lotor made a game of keeping the child from rearing up as she did the straps.

"I have nephews, older now, but they were once his age. They are a lot of fun to chase around." Lotor smiled as the child made one last grab for Lotor's thick braid which was now full of some unidentified oily mess.

"_Shoshi_, no." Lotor wagged a finger at the boy who broke out in laughter.

"What program are you studying?" The mother said, looking at the petite, but very handsome young man over. She expected to hear architecture or mathematics. She dropped her cup when he uttered the word warmaster. The other mothers gave a wary look and instinctively pulled their strollers close. Lotor sensed their apprehensions and said his good-byes. He heard the women gossip as he pulled away.

"Relax, he is lying. He was just trying to get a rise out of all of us. Look at him. Warmasters kill off the weak ones. They declare them unfit." Those were the last words he heard as he walked away. Yes, Lotor thought, he should have drowned me at birth or left me in the mountains. We would have all been happier.

At 7:00, he found himself standing in front of a bungalow. He rung the door and Katte was there with Sharra. He would have preferred if it was just Katte. He would have liked to get to know her better without her opinionated friend in tow. Katte was just the daughter of a Count, something his father would probably view as below him, but she did have noble blood in her veins and she was beautiful. Sadly, she only seemed concerned with math equations.

It was Sharra who showed interest in him, much to his dismay. She was pretty, in a different way than Katte. Where Katte was a bit lean, the other girl was voluptuous and had a naughty sexiness about her. She repeatedly made the point that she and Lotor, or at least Cadet Carris, where in the same social class. He knew that this was the year that was ripe for engagements, many of his classmates getting married right after graduation ceremonies. Half of the women in his graduating class would be coming into their first season soon. It was a powerful inducement to get a mate. An unmarried woman, in season, was just asking for trouble. There was a specially designed dorm to house them in which was kept under an impressive armed guard. The only exemptions were the few noblewoman and the Westerners who were housed in the bungalows. The women who were under Supremacy rule were supposed to report to the common dorms if they started to cycle. The Westerners, as usual, lived by their own codes. Lotor did not even know if they sent any of their women to the Academy, but he was not positive as he, like most of the student population, were avoided by them.

Finally, Katte shut off her pads. Lotor had felt that they had made some progress. He could sense she was a bit depressed and tried to cheer her up.

"Do not worry, even if I have to dress as a girl to sneak into your exams, I will make sure that you graduate." He gave her a big smirk as he piled up his hair and threw on the girl's cover. She snatched her hat back complaining the he was going to scuff the brim. They all had a good laugh as he batted his eyes.

"She is not upset about that, she is upset because Skath sat with Herana at lunch today. I explained to her that the only way any of us girls move up in division if we give in to his demands for _recreation_, and right now Herana is his lucky target. The only reason he has not asked her is that her father would get upset if someone sullied his little virgin alliance maker. Hell, she was devastated when he took his turn with me." Sharra threw her hair back.

"You are such a bitch." Katte spat back.

"Trust me, he was hardly worth it. Katte thinks he is going to propose to her." Sharra was almost gloating. Lotor had seen this behavior before, a middle class student engaging in passive-aggressive behavior with his or her social superior, in order to feel better for what they had been denied by circumstance. Lotor had a feeling that Sharra was probably the brighter student and the better pilot, but unlike Katte, she was going to have to work hard just to maintain her position in their society.

"He will not. King Meer is trying to make an alliance with Queen Merla of the Seventh Kingdom. He is determined to get her for Skath, and Skath is not exactly against it. Merla is quite attractive." Lotor casually mentioned as he closed up his learning pads.

"You are lying. How would you be privy to such knowledge." Katte fumed. "Why have I not heard of this?"

"I spent last summer in Zarkon's court and I overhead Zarkon talking about it with my father, the Royal Magistrate. Zarkon is also trying to arrange a marriage for his son with the Queen of Darkness." Lotor gave the girls a smirk. "She, unlike you, shops herself around."

"She is too old for Skath, she is like 21." Katte said in a sulky tone.

"She is 23 to be exact. A few years, either way, never stopped a royal marriage." Lotor said solemnly. "In fact, Katte, if you are so desperate there is always Lord Vyerketh of the Eighth Kingdom. As far as I know, he is still available."

"That eight year old fat toad, Carris you are incorrigible." She yelled as she threw a pillow at him.

"I am not the one desperate to have Your Highness or Your Majesty being thrown at me, unlike someone I know. Have you even considered Prince Lotor of Korrinoth, he is about your age. He is quite handsome and has no takers of yet." Lotor added, only fueling her anger.

"That is because he is brain damaged after Arus, if one is to believe the reports. Any more of your fine suggestions?" Katte said.

"I only saw him last month. My Prince looks fine to me. The press exaggerates his injuries." Lotor shot back.

"Give it up Carris, she has that peacock on her brain." Sharra commented.

"It is easy for you to disparage him now, but I did not see you resist his bed. You are such a slut." Katte answered back, her voice shaking. At that, both the girls had entered into a hair pulling fist fight. Lotor happily watched from a safe distance until a deep scratch showed up on Katte's face. He pulled the two apart.

"Ladies, behave yourself. I thought you were friends." He sat both of them down and dried their tears. He did not know why, but he always found himself attracted to women in an emotional state. Katte's anguish was just fueling the flames of his affection. Bleeding and crying, he felt a deep lust rise within him. He was definitely going to ask father to look into her as a potential bride. Lately, things had been improving between them and there was always hope that he would consider the girl. His father, as horrid as he was, had a strange spot in his heart for romance. It was one of the stranger aspects of an otherwise cruel persona, but one that Lotor found to be almost endearing. It was a well known fact on Korrinoth that the Great King cried at weddings.


	10. Chapter 10

Sixth Year

_Second Quarter_

"I am ore than pleased with your progress. I honestly thought you were just another pretty, rich boy looking to get his wings. You have definitely more than just talented pilot, I would have to say you are a gifted pilot. The House of Daibaza'al can now add tactical attack pilot to its many accomplishments. Your father will be proud." Mogor said without even a hint of his usually ingratiating tone.

"Father is just indulging me. I doubt he would ever let me set foot in a personal flyer. He has some very strong opinions of where a king or a prince should be, when leading an army." Lotor took of his helmet. As per regulation, he cut off his hair until it reached shoulder length. It was the only way it could comfortably fit into the helmet which he found to be constricting and stifling. At least, he thought, his hair was white again. The remnants of the past Neraku summers had been shorn from his head.

"My Lord, are you ready for survival camp?" Mogor asked with a concerned look on his face. "Skath's in charge."

"In a thousand years could Skath be worse than my father?" At that Mogor laughed. The boy had a point.

"No, but he has it out for you. I am partnering you with Katte; I thought you might like to have some more time with our princess wannabe." Mogor had a knowing look on his face.

"Is it that obvious?" Lotor shot a mournful look back.

"Well, if I do not focus on you staring at her with ghoul pup eyes or the drool that is hanging down the side of your mouth whenever she walks by, then no. Why not tell her the truth? She would be all over you." Mogor leaned in as if he wanted the conspiracy of their shared secret of his identity to grow a bit larger.

"My father would kill me. It is bad enough that you figured it out." Lotor shook his head. "I want her to see beyond my rank."

"Not possible with that type." Mogor replied. "Katte is just a spoiled brat. Sharra, on the other hand, adores you. And she is a much smarter girl than Katte. You need to start thinking about women with something besides what is between your legs"

"It is not like that." Lotor coolly replied. And it was not. He had put Katte on a pedestal. The thought of even kissing her had been too much to bear, fearful that she would reject him. Two or three times a week, he would go to her bungalow to tutor her in the fine art of quantum mathematics and be content with just sitting next to her and smelling her lavender scented hair. More and more, he had been finding Skath there, patiently waiting for him to leave. He had no doubt that they were partaking in _recreation_, a favorite activity amongst the teenagers rich enough to afford the seclusion of the private residences but it did not matter. He could, in time, overlook such a small thing. He would still take her to wife and had asked his father for permission to marry her. His father, in a generous mood, was considering the possibility. She was, after all, from an ancient noble family. "I'm in love."

"Korronites are always in love. It is a weakness of our kind. Forget her, you will find love with another more worthy girl." At that, Lotor lunged toward the officer who easily contained him. Growls filled his ears, consumed he failed to notice that they were his.

"Thank the gods that your muscles have not come in or I would have been in trouble. You are a fast one." Mogor said after he let go the sobbing, frustrated youth. "Go wash up, you shame yourself with your lust for this girl, I order you to go to a meditation chamber and search yourself for some discipline."

Lotor nodded obediently. Mogor was right. Katte made him act foolishly. It was Skath she wanted, not him.

Survival camp was brutal. They were flown to the north and deposited on a glacier with two weeks worth of MRI's and a survival pack. Not every cadet was expected to survive. Somme would either die or request a failure, happily enduring their one allowed rollback, and a deep dropping in their point rank, then tough it out. To leave now was an immediate flunk out of the pilot program. Even with a rollback, one only had time to switch to being a communication officer which was dull and lonely work on distant outposts. Lotor did not care, since he had another specialty to fall back on but the others were terrified. Lotor failed to see why, they were the children of the ruling classes and their futures were secure regardless of the outcome. All they had to do was get out of there alive, but the Drules had a tradition of family honor that warped their good senses. Nobles, it seemed, rather die than face the anger of their patriarchs. Lotor was beyond all that; he had faced his father's wrath too many times. Survival was always his first priority, let the rest work itself out later.

Katte was thrilled that she had been paired with Lotor. She rightly reasoned that a war master might be more useful than a pilot in survival school. Sharra had been paired off with Skath, not a bad choice, since he had already survived the ordeal. Mogor liked the cadet and was trying to bolster her chances of getting through with a high point value. There were twenty other students in the group. The objective was clear. Forty clicks away was a retrieval outpost. There the teams would hit a recon beacon and they would be picked up. Outside of that there were no rules. Which, Skath hinted at, meant each team had to do what it took to survive even if it meant sabotaging another one. The student who made it first would be given a hundred point upgrade on his rank putting him in an enviable position of lieutenant upon graduation, and therefore, would not have to waste another year in some military's flight school.

Skath had broken down how long it would take. If the weather held they could probably move about five clicks a day, but a blizzard could appear at any time and keep a team down for days. Each team had an emergency beacon if they wanted to drop out, so not one but both cadets would be rolled back if it was used. One could switch partners if another team agreed, helpful if two cadets wanted to drop out. There was also a large carnivorous predator called a gerosh that made these regions its home. They tended to live in the ice caves so one had to be careful when one chose to use the caves rather than build an ice hose or try to use the tents which were fairly ineffective. Of course, Mogor had gone over all of this in class but Skath was right to remind them. Lotor could not fault him on his last words as the teams broke up. With a great cheer and a roar, several teams departed quickly, moving fast across the ice. Four teams, including Lotor's and Skath's stayed behind, pulling out maps and taking readings.

"Carris, Neros's team has already gone two clicks. I can hear them bragging on the comms." Katte was looking at him impatiently. They had been there for two hours while he was carefully plotting his course.

"So, it is only a small distance. They are already in a bad position. The sun will go down soon and they are not near any of the caves. They will not go so far tomorrow. I am ready now" Lotor grabbed her backpack, something she did not expect. She had forgotten that there was a Korronite, bred for hard labor, underneath that slim frame. He slung the backpacks over his shoulders as if they were nothing.

They walked for three hours. Katte was exhausted. Lotor, used to the cold temperatures and winds of his world, was not as affected. He pointed out an ice cave and checked for anything that could be harmful. It was clear. He saw Skath and Sharra behind them and he lighted a flare in the snow so that they would join them.

He had already used a blaster to heat up some rocks when they arrived. He had secured one of the tents over the opening of the cave to block the wind. It was cold but bearable.

"You are a fool to invite us in. You are using up your resources to keep us warm." Skath said as he sat down next to the red hot rocks.

"I would have used the blaster anyway. Your presence is negligible. It would make more sense if we traveled together." Lotor looked at Skath who nodded in agreement.

"How do you know we will not betray you?" In the end, this exercise is every man, or woman, for him or herself." Skath said with a yawn.

"I am fully expecting you too, but not yet. But think twice before you do, I am very good at warmastering." Lotor said with a smirk.

The small group unpacked for the night. Sleeping bags emerged and Katte joined Skath in his. Sharra shrugged and went over to join Lotor as they zipped their bags together for warmth. Lotor cringed as he heard their giggles and sweet talk.He cursed his excellent hearing as he tried to shut out their romantic banter.

"And to think that they saw we are peasants. They are acting so inappropriately and they are less than ten measures away." Sharra said as she snuggled close. Lotor pushed away her straying hands

"Let us not bring ourselves to their level." He whispered back to the girl. He sensed she wanted much more than to just sleep.

"Everyone says that you do not play. Not with the girls, not with the boys. It is senior year. It is time to find a mate." Sharra started to playfully run her fingers through his hair. He turned around and grasped her hand tightly.

"It is not your place to take such liberties." Lotor fumed. He had wrestled her down and found himself on top of her. Sharra smiled. He was definitely reacting to her overtures. His body was betraying him.

"I am a warmaster. My King will provide me with enough mates." Lotor said through gritted teeth.

"Here you have a willing one, not a slave taken by conquest." Sharra whispered in his ear.

"I do not love you. Sex outside of a proper arrangement is inappropriate." Lotor mumbled as he rolled off of the girl.

"Strange words from a future warmaster. Carris face it, you are just afraid of losing control. Everything around you has to be perfectly balanced. Are you planning to never take a harem?" Sharra teased.

"It s my prerogative if I so choose. Perhaps one woman is all I need." Lotor answered back, his words tinged with annoyance.

"I could be that woman. Carris, I could be good for you." Lotor shook his head.

'Sharra, we are friends, nothing more. When I graduate I am going to join the Supremacy's Advance Guard. I will barely be home. Korrinoth is an ugly world. That is no life for you." He softly said.

"But you would offer it to Katte in a heartbeat, even if she let Skath take her in front of you." Sharra's words were cold. "You will not even give me a chance. I could make you want me, a part of you already does."

"That is the problem. It is just want. It needs to be something more." Lotor sighed.

"You are such a fool. Did you think I was really offering you marriage? I just wanted to try you for _recreation_. It is all you half breeds are good for anyway." He turned over and sighed as he pulled her close for warmth, cradling her soft body. He would never understand women.

The next morning was a hurried rush of packing as they gulped down a warm beverage and shoved down their emergency rations. They melted water and poured it unto the chemical pads in their ready to eat meal packs, within minutes the reactions brought the meats to a delightfully warm temperature. Lotor was sure that Katte was going to ask to switch partners with Sharra. She was playfully sitting on Skath's lap as she fed him the overcooked meats. Sharra was right; he was a fool for wanting her. He was actually disappointed when she handed him her backpack, fearing that they would get to replay this night over and over again. He doubted he could bear to spend another night listening to their frantic lovemaking accompanied by Sharra's pouting. It would have been better to switch. He would just give in to Sharra, and then, they could say their good-byes at graduation. .

Lotor listened intently as the other teams checked in with Skath. So far, everyone was still present and accounted for. Skath seemed pleased as he checked off everyone on his pad. They all tumbled out of the cave, Lotor securing his goggles that let him see in the bright light as he began to trudge forward. He yelled at Katte who was trying to steal one last kiss from Skath who seemed to be enjoying Lotor's discomfort. Tonight, he thought, even if he saw them he would not leave out a flare. If anyone was having _recre_a_tion_ with Katte tonight, it would be him and not her prince.

Lotor pushed Katte hard that day, hoping to put distance between Skath and her. That night, as they zipped together the sleeping bags he was too exhausted to try anything with her. Instead, he just drew her close and smelled her delicious perfume as he drifted off to sleep.

In his dream, which was more of a memory, he was running barefoot through a field of lavender with Allura by his side. The scratchy wooden stems barely registering on their feet as they collapsed into a field full of butterflies gently traveling from flower to flower, It was not a smooth field, and their were rocks all over the place. It was he who had heard the strange rattling sound first. All of a sudden they looked up and they were faced by a coiled snake. He motioned Allura to get behind him before the thing sprang out of its coil.

To this day, he did not know how he had grabbed it by its neck. He still remembered banging the slithering thing's head on the rock until it moved no more. Its body seemed to take a long time to die. Finally, he let it go. Allura was sobbing in the grass. He looked at the girl and sighed. Never in his life had he seen eyes so wide or capable of producing such voluminous tears. He swore that girl could cry an ocean if the situation demanded it.

"_Shoshi_, it is over. The snake is dead. I would never let any harm come to you." He gathered her up in his arms and kissed her forehead. She was still shaking but she had calmed down.

"What is it called?" He asked, curious to what he had just killed.

"It is called a rattlesnake. It was brought from Earth. It is very poisonous." Allura said weakly. "You were not scared."

"Haggar keeps plenty of slithering things in her labs, including snakes. Lotor answered nonchalantly, trying to pretend he had not been afraid of it. "Why do the humans colonize their worlds with such deadly predators? You do not see the Drules doing that. I swear your species has a death wish." He said as he shook his head. He grabbed a stick and poked the lifeless body. "Is it good to eat?" He added with a grin.

"Is that all you think about, eating." Allura's voice answered back. Her confidence somewhat returned.

"Pretty much." Lotor answered with a laugh.

"They keep the rodent population down." Allura looked down at the snake.

"We use cats for that on Korrinoth. Perhaps if Haggar's cat ever has kittens I can send you one. It has blue fur. One of Cova's kittens would easily take care of that mice problem that you have in the Castle." Lotor's face broke out in a big grin. Allura hit him. He knew that she loved her pet mice. "Or perhaps I shall send you a ghoul pup to lick you awake in the morning."

"Stop it, they are disgusting." Allura stared at the dead snake which Lotor was still pushing around.

"Lotor, do not tell anyone about the snake. They will say it is too dangerous for us to come out here." Allura came over to stare at the dead thing. "And stop touching it. It is disrespectful. You should feel sad that you had to kill it. It was only trying to protect itself."

"Sad for it. It was trying to kill us. I, for one, do not feel sad when taking out something that plans on doing me in." He kicked the body one more time. He grabbed Allura's hand and they walked back to the Castle. They never did tell anyone about the snake.

"Carris, wake up. You are having a bad dream." He felt Katte's warmth breath on his face.

"Rest, we have a long way to go tomorrow." He mumbled back, annoyed that she interrupted his memory.

"Who is Allura? That is not a Drule name, neither is Carris for that matter. Skath says you have too many secrets." Katte looked at him accusingly.

"Why do my secrets concern either you or Skath?" Lotor was awake now. He grabbed the pad next to him, curious about the time.

"You are supposed to be my friend. Friends tell each other the truth." Katte replied hesitantly.

"I do not want to be your friend. Unfortunately, you are too enamored with Skath to see that you would be better off with me." Lotor turned away.

"Warmasters do not have friends." Katte shot back.

"And for good reason, friends betray you. Better to rely on your sworn teammates, Silence, woman." Lotor fumed. He knew he would not find his way back to Arus tonight.

The frozen couple checked in with Skath and began another long trudge through the snow. Again, Lotor stopped after three hours. Katte complained, but she was not carrying the equipment. Lotor snarled at her. He had no intention of letting her get their first as she had done so little except follow in his footsteps. He sealed up the cave and through together a pile of rocks to warm. His disappointment with her commitment to the mission faded when she took off her parka, and her long brown hair cascaded around her shoulders.

"We should sleep skin to skin tonight." She said with a smile. :I can finally see for myself how hot blooded a Korronite truly is."

"I assume you are referring to my body temperature." Lotor said with a smirk.

"Carris, you know that I am with Skath now. You will not try anything, will you? I am just trying to keep warm." Katte stripped down to her t-shirts and nestled into to sleeping bags.

"Do not worry, I have barely the strength to stand." He quietly said as he pushed his body into the surprisingly warm bag.

"You take good care of me. I am glad you are my partner." Again she snuggled close, the smell of lavender filling the small amount of space between them. This time, she did not wake him.

Lotor found himself on Arus again. It was a cold winter day and he, with the rest of the royal family, were standing among the ruins of an ancient temple, not human made. Allura was cold and pressed against him. His body temperature was several degrees warmer than hers and she was using him as a portable heater. An archaeologist was droning on s he pointed to the temple walls. He claimed the characters and pictographs they were looking at must have belonged to a long lost ancient Drule language. He then went on to explain what he interpreted the mural to mean.

Lotor was laughing hysterically in the back as the spectacled man continued a complicated tale that involved the curse of the dead. King Alfor shot Lotor a dirty look but it did not silence the snickers.

"Prince Lotor, control yourself." King Alfor angrily said as he turned around confront the purple faced youth. Lotor swallowed.

"Professor, if I may interrupt. You have it all wrong." Lotor said with great seriousness.

"The language is Wyvern, not Drule. This horrendous tale you are reading is no more than an offertory list that this noble's family was supposed to leave. He obviously enjoyed wine, some fruit I cannot identify, and something akin to your cookies. There is no curse on this wall, though I give credit to your imagination." Lotor said with a mock seriousness.

"You are telling me that you can read this?" He archaeologist gave Lotor an incredulous stare.

"Most of it. It is like ten thousand years old. The stones are soft and the writing is rubbed off in some of the places. I so not know what all the words mean." Lotor stood there as the archaeologist called several of the other researchers over.

"He says he can read this." The professor pointed to the wall.

"How can you believe him? He is a child and Drules lie." The other man said under his breath so that the King did not hear.

"I want to bring him to the fresco in the center hall. I am curious to his take on it." The professor asked the royal party to follow them.

"My Lord, we found this last week. The press had not even seen this." The man cautiously said as he brought them to another part of the complex and unto an elevator. They must have descended fifty feet.

"The builders of this complex preferred to be underground." The professor stared at Lotor, careful in his words so that he was not corrected again.

"The temperature down here is always 22ºcelsius, as you can see the air down here is as dry as a bone. " The man led the party an elaborately carved tunnel that approached twenty meters in heights. Pictographs covered the wall. The party was moving far to fast to look at the drawings but he felt queasy insides as they approached the two huge doors, already ajar. The room was three times as high as the tunnels and could have easily held a hundred people, yet the only other artifact of note was a very small altar in front of the magnificent frescoes that were on the wall. They looked as if they were only painted yesterday. Inside, groups of men scientists and researchers were excavating, measuring and taking pictures of the walls that surrounded the massive room.

"They are magnificent." Queen Alana said as she 1et out a breathless gasp. The walls were covered with pictures of the Wyvern, now Drule pantheon. Lotor fell to his knees in supplication and tried to look away from the images, but he too was drawn by their splendor. On the main wall, the gods were looking down at what appeared to be a fallen angel dressed in the traditional ceremonial armor worn of a warmaster. This warrior angel, broken and bleeding, was lying on the ground. In the background was Jerast, Arus' largest mountain. The warrior's face was hidden by his long, white hair. Lotor knew the symbolism well. The warrior was disgraced and ashamed. Before him, and there was no mistake, was a lazon sword inscribed with the word vengeance carved into its hilt.

The walls of the east and west side of the chamber was filled with planets. The artists who created the fresco were trying to represent the known Universe. In the distance was even the human's home galaxy. The more familiar planets such as Arus, Korrinoth, and Neraku were there. Lotor's eyes flew open when he saw Drule, the planet that gave birth to the majority of his species, collapsing on itself. Shaking, he turned around to look at Allura. She was fixated on the other wall where there was a beautiful goddess holding out her arms in a loving manner. She looked as if she were calling a lost child.

Lotor grabbed Allura's arm and dragged her back down the tunnel, throwing her into the elevator and hitting the button that brought them back to the surface.

"We should have never been in there." He cried as they ascended. Only a High Priest is sanctified to enter such a cursed place. You know, they used to kill the artists and all those that worked on the those Chambers because the only one allowed to see them was the High Priest. It was considered a great honor to die for such a thing." His chest was heaving as the words came pouring out. "What did you see?"

"I just saw the goddess. Everyone was blocking my way." Allura answered softly.

"That is good. She may protect you." Lotor felt himself beginning to sob. "We have all committed a great sacrilege. The dark gods do not forget easily. "

The archaeologist and the rest of the party found them some time later, sitting on cargo boxes. The winter wind was beginning to whip around them and snowflakes had started to fall. The archaeologist came in close.

"Are you alright? I did not mean to upset you. I sometimes forget how religious the people from Korrinoth are?" Lotor looked at the man and eyed him.

"You mean to say how superstitious we are?" Lotor answered back; knowing that the man had already prejudged him. The man looked at Lotor. His eyes seemed to dance with excitement.

"It is the tale of Keturah and Bashir, isn't it? Bashir is the angel, he is being depicted as the Sword of Batak." And on the other side of the chamber is his wife, Keturah,." He turned to the King and Queen, with that peculiar habit that some academics have of thinking their students, or who ever they are lecturing,, have some knowledge of what they are talking about. "I told them it was, but they said I was wrong because it is forbidden for any Drule to mention his name, let alone pray to Bashir. They are so fearful of him. Once a year, a High Priest goes into the Chamber of Holies and offers Bashir a sacrifice and begs him not to tale vengeance. Isn't that true, Prince Lotor?" Lotor nodded. He felt liked he wanted to throw up. This was a dangerous place.

"And then after the sacrifice the High Priest is killed so he cannot describe what he saw on the walls. It is the highest honor the Korronites can give one of their priests. They believe in their afterlife, a place they call the Dream Realm, that these particular priests will personally serve Batak. "The man looked to Lotor in hopes of reinforcing his information.

"Yes." Lotor said.

"I do not know the story", Queen Alanna looked over Lotor who refused to talk and then turned to the professor. He gave an ingratiating smile. "The Story of the Sword of Batak is common enough in theme in many religions; it is another version of an old motif of the creator's child or trusted servant trying to overthrow him and being cast out by the god and sent to live with mortals. Batak was the Wyvern god of war, and due to his ability to keep control of the others, he was their sort of chief god. He was considered a just ruler by the gods, but as you can see from the Drule High Council system, they embrace a sort of oligarchy of kings and queens that vote by majority. Except for a few brief periods, most notably after the initial arrival of the humans into Drule space, the system had existed since the Wyverns first introduced it around 4,000 years ago. The Drules, especially after Empress Jain IX have totally embraced this philosophy. But I digress, it is a bad habit of mine." The man took a deep breath. Lotor was eyeing him; humans never really understood Drules.

"Batak was what the Wyvern or Drules consider a dark god. These gods, though at times bringing great fortune and fame, are also the gods behind great misery. The Drules truly believe that they can devour your soul. The High Council of the Drule, I mean Wyvern gods, passed an edict to control Batak's power. His true nature was to destroy, not to create, so they looked to contain him . They called their most loyal and beautiful servant, Bashir, and sealed Batak's sword to him. Soon, with the god of war's sword in hand, he tried to overthrow the gods. He almost suceeded. They captured him and banished him to the mortal realms where he was separated from his beloved wife, the goddess Keturah. Angry and full of rage, he takes out his personal vengeance on the Universe. He vows not to stop unless the gods give her to him. She comes and forces him to give up his sword. He is then redeemed by Keturah, the Wyvern goddess of pity, for all of his sins. It is an epic tale." The archaeologist drew a great breath.

"You still got it wrong. He lays down his sword in hopes of regaining her love, but we do not know if she redeems him. We never know whether she forgives him, such was the goddess's anger. Bashir was chosen to bear the sword because his nature was that of the dark gods; capricious and cruel. Though he loved Keturah, she did not love him. He had seen her bathing in the rivers of Tirana and immediately saw her as his mate and harassed Batak to get her for him. Batak loved Bashir so much that he could not deny him such a prize. Batak brought misery to the Wyverns until Beratash, the goddess of compassion relented and handed over her daughter to the angel. You humans are always turning it into a love story. It is not." Lotor looked angrily at the man.

The professor smiled. "No, it is not a love story but it is difficult for us humans to understand what it is about, My Prince, is it not about the most feared thing for your people, the cruelest gift that any of the dark gods ever imparted on them; the feeling of _lotor _and what if will drive a Drule male to do_. _ It is said that Bashir and Keturah are a cautionary tale for males so affected with this overpowering malady._"_ The professor looked at the boy, daring him to challenge him.

"No, your interpretation is wrong. How can it be cautionary when there is nothing that can be done? " Lotor gave the professor a challenging look.

"One can be freed by _lotor _by destroying it. Batak destroyed Keturah to save the Universe; that is why you Drules have no pity." The man looked at Lotor. Lotor knew the look of human disdain all to well.

"No, Batak destroyed Keturah because Bashir refused his bed after he saw her. Only by getting Keturah for his prized possession could he hope to have him again. If Bashir really wanted to destroy the _lotor _, he would have killed Bashir." Lotor looked up at the man and shook his head.

"Do Drules even lie about their religion to offworlders." The man looked at Lotor and shook his head.

"We lie about everything. You humans need to accept that. It is in our nature." Lotor looked away. Your fellow colleagues were right; the Drules would never paint such a mural We did not even paint the ones in our temples; the Wyvern did. It is forbidden by the Law. It is forbidden to even mention their names."

Lotor woke up knowing that he had never been to Batak's temple on Arus. The witch had expressly forbidden it and his father, as usual, backed her up. He was still under confinement when the first snow came and he liked the rest of Arus watched them enter into the Chamber of Holies with the archeological team. The chamber had been one of the biggest finds of the century. He, unlike the rest of Arus, looked away from the media broadcasted the images to the entire world. He knew that the gods would punish every Arusian for the transgression of the royal family. He had sent the Queen a message not to go. She did not even bother to acknowledge it as he sat in his room, waiting for Borak to free him. He wanted to leave this place. He wanted to go home before Batak came

The archaeologist who described the find knew nothing of Batak, Bashir or Keturah. How would we. No Drule or Wyvern would ever mention the name of the god who had first felt _lotor _ and infected the Universe with his misery. The scientists thought the young man on the ground was a fallen hero. Bashir was not a hero; he was an arrogant, cursed god who brought his own downfall as much as Keturah did. It was a well known Drule saying that when a dark god loves you; best to forsake all others.

Three days later, they approached the final night's rest before they were to reach the recovery beacon. They entered the small ice cave after Lotor noticed a tent had already been sheeted up at the door. He was hoping the occupant would be generous and share it with them since Katte was insistent that she did not want to spend another minute in the ice and cold. Lotor have expectedly another cadet was behind the tented door; one hoping to knock him out as the recon beacon was only a few more click away. He could not find anyone when he entered but he heard the howling of an animal. He pulled his lazon sword, ready to rush whatever creature awaited him. Instead he found Sharra, barely dressed, clinging to a naked Skath who had her pinned up against a large rock. Both of them were obviously enjoying themselves. He looked away. He was ashamed at his arousal of her perfect body. Katte even gave him a strange look as if she was surprised that she would even notice Sharra.

"Get dressed. You have company." Lotor said with a red face. Katte was not so amused as she looked at her suitor and best friend scrambling for their clothes.

"Katte, it was only _recreation_. I assume you and Carris were doing the same." Sharra winked at Lotor who was sitting still as Katte sowed him up.

"Hardly. Not every cadet with rank uses us as their personal harem. Some men are capable of showing discipline." Katte shot back a look at Skath who seemed to be showing no remorse. Lotor looked at Sharra, not sure who she was trying to hurt, him, Katte or herself. He knew she had no great desire for Skath. He was not even surprised when Katte shared her sleeping bag with Skath that night, as if nothing had happened.

Sharra slipped into his.

"What took you so long to find us? I held off as long as I could. You should thank me." Lotor turned and raised an eyebrow. "I showed her what he is really like. That is what you wanted, was it not? You owe me."

"I did not ask you to...make a whore out of yourself. You made that choice." Lotor looked down,. He did not want to talk about what he had seen or felt. She was such a strange girl. "Thank you. Still, your plan seems to have failed. Give them ten minutes and I am sure that he will take _recreation_ with her this time." He tried to block out the sounds of the young couple as he faced the wall. He was furious.

"No, but you got to see the real Katte. She wants him and she hates you. She treats you like shit. Your her little lackey. Her private little whiz kid to get her through the finals. At least, for once, piss her off. Let me win the survival school points. They will fall asleep right after they are done; they always do. You can get me to the recon station and be back here before the night is over. You are a _warmaster_. It would be so easy for you.." She stopped for a moment, she wanted the words to sink in. She knew Lotor better than most; the cadet responded well to flattery; even better when it was true. "You are already taking First in at least one subject. You are guaranteed the rank of lieutenant. Let me have that too, then at least the Imperials will look at me. It is so much harder for a woman to get a slot with them. Please Carris, for me. Remember, we are not of the noble class. They get enough advantages by birth." She looked at him and smiled. She was always good at stroking his ego.

"It will be risky if anything happens. We will need to leave most of our gear. Just our suits, some rope, an ice pick and a flashlight." He whispered back. It felt good to be in control of something again.

Sharra was the first to hit the recon signal. In the end, this pleased Lotor since she deserved it the most. He snuck back to the cave and slipped into his sleeping bag. An hour later, the alarm rang and they spent the next hour looking for Sharra before they realized she was gone. Katte shot Lotor a look implying that he had to know what happened to her. She even accused him of foul play. He shook his head. Skath looked through her gear, and finally he did what no one else thought to. He called her com link. She was sitting with Captain Korvos at the Recon center. If Skath hurried up, he would have the honor of winning it two years in a row. Lotor and Katte dragged behind as Skath raced to the finish. In all, Skath lost four pilots in all. Two disappeared into the arctic wilderness and two dropped out. It was no better or worse than any other year.

Lotor sat through the funerary oratories of his classmates and shook his head. All they had to do was push a button and all this madness would have simply went away. He learned a lot that trip. Mogor was right. Katte was not worth it, neither was Sharra. Women were as treacherous as men when push came to shove, and they did so much more damage.


	11. Chapter 11

Sixth Year – Third Quarter

It was one of those rare days when he found Katte alone. Lotor, with some dismay, had become something akin to another girlfriend or at least a desexed male in her eyes. More and more, she had let him into her bungalow without Sharra present. Lately, though, after survival camp, Sharra was not to be found. Lotor chalked it up to Sharra's resumed romance with Skath who seemed to prefer her after their little trip to the arctic wastelands of Neraku. This did nothing to encourage Lotor, for it showed him that there was no apprehension in his visits.

He would never know what inspired him that night, it had been no different from the others. Perhaps it was the soft moonlight that was streaming through the back windows that bathed her in silver light, or maybe because her hair was down and shimmering in the night' s soft glow, or maybe it was simply that he was seventeen years old and his hormones were raging but he pulled her close and kissed her full on the lips. It was only later on that he found out why she had been so irresistible that evening, and in the end, it was Drule biology that had caused such brashness on his part. After the blissful kiss, he felt her hand come hard across his cheek. It burned. He let her go. Drule women, when angered, could be quite ferocious.

"How dare you, to think a peasant could take liberties with the Countess of Ferok. You are not worthy to kiss my boots, let alone my mouth." Katte was furious with him.

"You call me peasant, I am to be a warmaster. What makes you think you are so mighty. Are princes throwing themselves at you? Your only prince is having his way with your best friend when your back is turned. You are going to inherit a two bit piece of land on a dried up hunk of planet whose only resource of note is titanium. Even a lowly peasant from Korrinoth, like myself, will be worth more in a few years than your darling daddy is now. Enjoy your second rate title." Lotor grabbed his learning pad and started to leave.

"Carris wait, how am I going to pass the exam next month without you?" She cried after him.. A part of him was heartbroken. He desperately wanted her. He wanted to confess his affections and his rank to here, hoping he would at least have had a chance to woo her. Instead, all she talked about was how miserable she was since Skath had left her for Sharra.

In the end, it was Skath who claimed the prize he so eagerly sought. The math final was no concern, she would never take it. She had just been starting to go into season that night. Katte knew better, she should have gone to the dorms but instead she invited Skath over. In her own way, she was attempting to force the issue of her marriage thinking that if he tied with her, and a child ensued, the political pressure would be too much. But this was not the case, her pregnancy lead to a disgraceful dismissal and the loose concubinage he offered conferred no royal privileges to her child. To make matters worse, her shame brought about a shunning. She was no longer the Countess of Ferok, she was nothing now but a mere toy for a prince's amusement.

Lotor would have laughed if it had been possible, he would have so liked to take pleasure in her downfall. Her rejection had galled him so. He found it ironic that he, the child of a mere slave, had been made crown prince of the richest, if not the most powerful kingdom in the Supremacy and her child would just be another illegitimate bastard running rampant. Unlike Skath, he would have, somehow, convinced his father to let him do the right thing. If anything, he was a determined young man when he set his sights on a goal.

Lotor, in the desperation of a fool, had gone to her and asked her to terminate the pregnancy. It was not so far along, but she resisted saying that Skath would come around. He had told her that he loved her. He would remove her dishonor by making her his wife. She would live in a villa, bedecked in jewels with her every need taken care of. And, he even promised, in good time he could have her reunited with her family. Even though every instinct argued against it he once again professed his love for her. Instead, he was answered with another barrage of insults. How could he ever be worthy of her? She would rather have the bastard son of a prince than be the wife of a lowly warmaster. Lotor was crushed.

Still, Lotor felt like he had to do something for his dishonored friend. He had decided that since Skath refused to marry hr, he was going to challenge him in the Arena for her. Charak groaned at this. At seventeen, he was too young to start this silly fighting over a woman. He laughed a bit at the young cadet; as much as he wanted to deny what he was he was showing typical warmaster behavior. Most of them had at least one other man's bastard floating around their harems. He desperately tried to dissuade the young prince from this course of action.

"You think you are in love, you are not. She is just a fantasy." The old warmaster gently said.

"How would you know. You have told me that you had never been in love with anyone." Lotor grumbled back.

"No, but I have seen men in love. Borak loves Dreidal. Your father loved Althea, but he will deny it to his dying day. And you will find love, you Korronites are romantics at heart." The old man whispered.

"I am in love." Lotor protested. The boy was stubborn. If he said he was in love, he was.

"Forget about her, forget about Skath." It was Charak who went to the Commandant and finally put a halt to this testament of teenage hormones.

"Cadet Carris has challenged Cadet Skath to the Arena and you approved of this madness?" The warmaster leaned over the desk, invading the personal space of the Commandant. The Commandant, once a warmaster himself, did not take to the challenges kindly.

"You have coddled the Korronite too long due to his size. He is not even ranked. Best I let this Korronite garbage die in the Arena then have an unprepared warmaster's name attached to _my academy_." The Commandant retorted.

"Do you really think that I would pass him if he was not qualified? What purpose would that serve?" Charak answered back.

"Then why have you refused to let him fight the other students? Every year you give me the same excuse. He is too small." The Commandant bristled.

"He can call the bloodlust up at will. I was afraid he would litter your Arena will the bodies of the other cadets." Charak finally said. The air hung with a heaviness that was indescribable.

"The Law is clear on this. It should have been reported. The boy should be executed. He is an abomination." The Commandant was now standing. He looked at the other man, his eyes filled with accusation. "Why does he live?"

"Gedon, I am 85 years old. In three month, the Demon King will release me. I will go back to Drule and return to the villa that I so richly deserve after a life of long service to my Emperor. I will see my women, my children and my grandchildren. I will die a happy man. I think I can turn a blind eye to the Law in order for this to occur. And, if you were smart, which I think you are, you would forget we had this conversation."

"Cadet Carris, he is someone who would be missed?" Charak shrugged.

"Missed, I am not sure. But his father would rain hell upon you and yours if you tried to turn him. You should view Carris, not as an individual, but as a piece of property that the Demon King highly values. Valued enough that I was sent here to protect that particular interest." Charak collapsed into the chair before the desk. He was getting old and his bones ached. \

"Wonderful. Carris belongs to Zarkon. I should have figured it out. Skath always said there was something strange about that boy." The Commandant sighed. " I have created a warmaster infected with the bloodlust. May the gods spare me." The Commandant went over to his bar and poured a drink for him and Charak.

"Neither us created Carris. He would have existed anyway. I assure you, the dark gods love him." Charak mused as he took the drink.

"What do I tell Skath?" The Commandant murmured.

"Tell Skath that a good prince knows when to show mercy. If he gives you anymore trouble remind him of the tale of the legendary swordmaster Charak who lost it all over a woman. I know he has seen Carris's swords. Tell him the Renars are not for show."

"Could he really take Skath, the prince has been trained since he was a child? It could solve the whole bloodlust issue." The Commandant sipped his drink slowly, obviously upset that Charak would have him violate the Law so easily.

"So has Carris, and by me. Skath does not stand a chance against him. He would not even need to call the bloodlust to take down your pretty little prince. Stop this, or there make be an intergalactic incident on your hands."

Charak never knew what the Commandant said to Skath, but soon after he and Katte were no were to be found. Lotor had fallen into another one of his useless depressions and Charak sent Mogor, his fellow Korronite to cheer him up. Mogor found him in the barracks, staring at pictures that he had taken of and with the girl. It was the middle of the day and no one else was there.

"Sire, you cannot say that I did not warn you about her. She played her cards wrong." Mogor grabbed the pictures away from Lotor.

"I suppose you are going to tell me to burn them." Lotor was laid across his bunk. It was too small for him and he cursed his father for not letting him enjoy the bungalows the other children of nobility enjoyed.

"Just the opposite. You should keep them to remind you of all the trouble a woman can cause one's heart. I would suggest that you lock them up and pull them out whenever another woman causes you so much distress." Mogor laughed as he handed them back.

"You say it as if it were a given." Lotor gave up a sad smile.

"We are Korronites. Our hearts always overrule our heads. One should never be ashamed of their true nature. " Mogor paused. "Anyway, with Skath gone, I need a new head for the tactical team. You are my most gifted pilot." Mogor lifted the boy's chin up.

"Sharra deserves it." Lotor shot back, not wanting to deprive his fellow classmate of what was rightfully hers.

"She is staying on next year as First Pilot. She will have her chance. In truth, you are the better pilot. I was really quite amazed at how good you were. Your father's family was never known for liking the skies." Mogor laughed.

"My mother came from a long line of pilots. They were merchants. She also knew how to fly." Lotor sat up and put the pictures in his trunk. Mogor was right. It served him not to be moping around a barrack. In a few weeks, he would be graduating.

"I did not know that about her. It fits her personality, and yours. Controlling, impulsive and a bit fearless." Mogor had a sweet look on his face as he patted the young man on the back.

"You liked her?" Lotor looked up. He was always trying to gleam what ever he could find out about the mysterious woman who still haunted his dreams.

"I did. There was no bad blood between us. When the accident occurred she offered me kind words. She was not always the monster everyone made her to be." Mogor answered with a small laugh.

"Then why did everyone hate her so much?" Lotor said as he snapped the locks.

"Because she was so beautiful. Drules always lust for beautiful things we cannot have. " Mogor looked at the boy wistfully.

"She was not a thing, She was a person. She was my mother." Lotor shot back.

"We are all just things to Zarkon. That fact, _shoshi_, is the most important lesson I can ever teach you. Take it to heart." Mogor saluted and walked away. Lotor sat there, biting his bottom lip. Only ten more weeks and he could forget all of this.


	12. Chapter 12

Sixth Year

_Graduation Day_

Lotor listened patiently as they called the Firsts. He knew he must have received at least one of the awards; his class ranking was too high to discount the possibility. He rolled his eyes as Jeras took the First in the Warmaster Program. He fell short on Swords because Charak had kept him away from the other students. The fact that he only lacked ranking drove him to the point of anger. Charak had only allowed him to fulfill the basic requirements for graduation. Somehow, he thought, the warmaster had been unfair to his best pupil.

Finally, his name was called in Engineering and Applied Physics, much to the chagrin of the science majors. At least, he would be leaving the school as a full lieutenant. Anything less, he could not bear. He shook his full head of white hair and readjusted his cover before he went to the podium to receive the scrolls. He offered up a small prayer to his Wyvern forbearers that had given him the cognitive skills to breeze through those classes. The math awards eluded him – as usual, the guildmasters' offspring had rolled over all the other cadets in gaining them. It was never even a contest, they were all living calculators.

Lotor did not know his father was sitting next to King Bhorn in the imperial box. Borak was also there. Zarkon had not forgotten how much the man had invested in his son's education. With pride, his father watched the day's festivities progress. The highlight of the day was the aerial show put on by the Tactical Attack Squad. With precision, it flew across the Arena and performed a dazzling array of tricks to the amusement of the crowd below. Mogor, who had somehow managed his way into the box, excitedly pointed out that the Great King's son was the team leader.

"Mogor, the court grieves your absence. I am hoping that you will offer your resignation after today's festivities. I am starting up a new attack force and an officer of your experience is very much needed." The king looked expectantly at the officer, well aware that he was instrumental in making his son's mad quest to be a plot into a reality. He did not understand this love of flight. It was the one thing that Althea, in her captivity, claimed she missed the most. He should have let her fly again. It had been a small thing to ask of him, but he was always afraid that she would escape. Looking back, he regretted the decision. A little bit of freedom might have made her life seem more bearable than it had been.

"Sire, most certainly. The officer was bowed in a posture of deep submission. The Commandant was not thrilled by the scene and wondered how his flight instructor had wheedled his way into the imperial box. The man had known he had lucked out when the disgraced captain had come looking for employment. Now, he would have to scramble to find a worthy replacement at a much higher salary. Borak watched the whole scene and shook his head. His King was too generous when he perceived that he owed a debt of gratitude.

"My Lord, are we going to summon the Prince to join us? I am sure he would be glad to know that you attended the ceremonies." Borak suggested gingerly.

"We will just fight and I am in no mood to discipline Lotor today. For once, let me watch my son with the respect he deserves. The Imperial Adjunct is already here. Lotor should go with the other new imperial recruits. As far as I am concerned, he is Zeppo's problem for the next five years. Gods help both him and the Emperor." Zarkon said with smugness in his voice.

Zarkon looked up at Bhorn's box thinking that if his father had come he would be sitting there. The ceremonies were now over. Lotor shrugged as he watched the eager families rush to their children on the field. Hugs, back slaps, and kisses surrounded him. He just shrugged. He briefly looked around for his cover which had been lost when all the cadets had flung them up in the air. It made no matter. He would be issued a new uniform soon. He untied his hair. He had not cut in the last couple of months and it flowed down well past his shoulders. Sharra ran up to him and planted a deep kiss on his lips.

"After next year, I am requesting an imperial posting on Drule. Perhaps, we will see each other sooner than you think." She hinted.

"That would be nice. You have my address. Stay in touch." He practically had to shout as the noise around them was deafening.

It was Borak who pointed him out to Zarkon who had to strain to see the cadet exiting the Arena.

"Son, may the gods keep you safe. Come home soon." He whispered as he watched his son leave. He did not know what the future would bring to his one true heir, but for now, it was more than he could offer.


End file.
